


Famine and Feast

by tiggeryumyum



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alpha Eren Yeager, Alpha Erwin Smith, Alpha Marco Bott, Alpha Reiner Braun, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breeding, F/M, M/M, Mpreg, Nesting, Omega Jean Kirstein, Rimming, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:07:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5066203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiggeryumyum/pseuds/tiggeryumyum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this verse, omegas are extremely rare, and not designed to mate with just one partner - they were originally meant to serve the entire pack. </p><p>Normally these are just dead instincts and omegas happily mate with single partners all the time, but after a very particular day, Jean finds himself going into a very particular heat.</p><p>(4 alphas try to knock up jean)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot see any possible way that this won't be done in three chapters, but every time I've tried to predict chapter length in this fandom i've jinxed myself, so we'll leave it as question marks for now. 
> 
> THIS IS THE MOST INDULGENT THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN ENJOY.

Waking up this late means there's only a few spots open in the dining hall, and no breakfast left. 

A table in the back is practically empty, just Reiner and Berthold, so Jean heads in that direction. It's partly a joke and partly serious how he grabs an extra roll from Bert's plate when he gets there. Jean needs to get something in his stomach before morning drills, he's pretty sure Bert won't mind, and in either case he won't complain. 

"Morning," Jean says, bringing it to his mouth. He smirks at Bert, but Bert does not look at him with surprise, annoyance, or even sadness.

It's _fear_ , edging on horror. 

It's an odd reaction, so Jean looks down at the roll, then again at Bert's face, then Bert's hand, which is resting on Reiner's shoulder, like he's trying to hold him.. back... 

Then finally... Reiner's. Face.

Jean drops the roll, but it's not enough.

He reevaluates the space everyone else was giving the two of them – the scent in the air – 

Jean just stole food from an alpha's mate. 

He just challenged an alpha in the middle of his rut. 

Reiner stands, eyes dark and feral, head ducked, staring Jean down like a bull. 

Jean's throat dries up, and his mouth works, but words are useless here – they've trained together for the past five years, they've saved each other's lives, they've shared secrets and had fights and made up afterward, they're _friends_ , Reiner doesn't even _like_ to fight, but all that means nothing to the instincts broiling away in Reiner's body. 

Jean takes a step back, hands up, because the sight is – terrifying, truly, it'd be intimidating from any alpha, but to see _Reiner_ , who has never been particularly _cuddly_ , but always aware and in control of his strength, never a threat, someone Jean trusts, larger than life _Reiner_ , looking at him like that is petrifying. It's scary enough to cut past all logic, all previous knowledge that was drilled into his head – alongside _don't approach a wounded animal_ and _don't eat the berries that the birds avoid_. 

_Do not run away from a posturing alpha_.

But there are instincts in Jean, too, that tell him to get away as fast as he possibly can. 

He bolts, like any prey would, and it triggers Reiner into launching across the table, snarling. 

"Reiner!"

Jean's slammed into the ground, the momentum sending them skidding into the wall, and Jean struggles but he's pinned, staring up at a feral, wild fucking animal. 

Everyone in the dining hall is staring, horrified but knowing better than to interfere, as Jean fights against the arms holding him down, trying to break the grip. He knows he shouldn't, just like he shouldn't've ran, he knows fighting makes it worse, but he is truly scared and can't get his body to stop bucking, kicking, squirming. 

Reiner slams Jean against the ground again, snarling, a sound that vibrates straight through Jean's body. 

The fear reaches a mind-cracking peak in Jean, and suddenly, like a blanket getting thrown over him, Jean's arms drop, going utterly, completely still. Jean breathes in and out, tight and shallow. This stillness is unnatural, it's new, something Jean's never experienced before, and it pulses through his body like a wave; _not a threat, not a threat, not a threat._

He realizes, with distant surprise, that it's pheromones – he's releasing pheromones. This is also something Jean's never done this before, and he watches the effect they have as Reiner takes a deep, considering inhale. 

"… Jean," Reiner pants out, blinking hard, obviously fighting for it. For sanity. He relaxes his grip, releases Jean's shirt but keeps his arms on either side of Jean's head. 

Jean remains still, _not a threat, not a threat, not a threat_ , he can tell Reiner's shaking with the sheer effort of holding back whatever horrible things he wants to do to Jean, the threat Jean posed, the thing that challenged to safety of his mate.

Suddenly, Reiner opens his mouth in a way that reminds Jean of a titan, and surges forward, aiming for Jean's neck.

Jean chokes on his scream, but Reiner's licking, not biting, though it's almost as violent, all frantic and hard up and down the column of Jean's throat, growling and whining at once. It's obviously a substitute for what his body wants to do to Jean, to keep him from committing violence against his friend, his teammate.

"Reiner," Bert says, quietly, trying to lure him away from Jean's body. 

A few more wild, rough licks, and Reiner sits up, lifting his weight completely, logic and reason returning to his face. But Jean doesn't move and for a moment he's afraid he literally _can't_ – that he won't ever be able to move again, stuck limp and helpless forever. But he forces it, gets his stiff limbs to cooperate, and it's clumsy, but he manages to wriggle out from under Reiner and to his feet. 

Distantly he knows this was his own damn fault, but right now he just wants to get _away_ , doesn't want to look, hear or smell Reiner anymore, because the alpha is terrifying, and he does not like being scared. He rushes to the door, hunger long forgotten. People are watching, but it's easy for Jean to ignore the stares and whispers; this is far from the most violent or awkward confrontation to result from a heat or rut ever, or even this month. No injuries, no blood shed. It was over in less than a minute, even.

But his hands are still shaking, his _neck_ is still _wet_ with Reiner's _spit_ , and that strange pulse is still thrumming through his body. He needs – needs to get somewhere – somewhere safe. Somewhere with a door he can lock, or high up, where he can see any threats approaching – 

"Smells like omega," he overhears someone say as he passes.

"Pfft. Yeah, right. Like you even know what one smells like."

"No, really – I swear, I smelled it – "

Jean moves faster. 

He takes suppressants, but the fear from Reiner's attack obviously managed to overpower them, his instincts doing whatever they could to placate the hostile alpha, filling the air with an especially docile, submissive scent. He didn't even know that was something an omega could do.

Omegas are rare.

Jean's birth in Trost broke the district's two year streak of only alphas and betas, and they're _especially_ rare here, in the military. Jean happens to know there's only three on this very base, including himself, and he seriously doubts anyone who didn't share barracks with him in training suspects _Jean Kirstein_ to be one. He's nothing like the mythical, fantasy omega, beautiful and tiny and soft and docile. Omegas are supposed to put on weight easily and look pleasant when they do, are supposed to be soft spoken, and passive. Drawings of omegas always have bright pink, round cheeks and healthy curves and huge, doe-like eyes. Jean's barely got any softness in his body, tall and wiry, and he tends to assert himself and speak his opinions without waiting to be asked. 

He's not what any of his comrades would expect an omega to look or act like, but the secret will be out regardless if he doesn't get it together, calm himself back down and stop putting off this _not a threat_ smell. 

He makes it to the safest place he knows, his quarters, slams the door shut and locks it. Resists the urge to drag the dresser in front. He's disgusted with himself – even his clothes are drenched in the scent, and the smell swamps the room. His shaking hands fumble with the belts of his gear, wanting to change as quickly as possible, thankful he has the space entirely to himself after Marco started bunking with Mina. 

Naked, his hands still shake as he searches through his drawers – he has his usual suppressants, and a dose of particularly powerful ones, somewhere. The nurse gave them to him on his first day in training camp, meant for his first heat, which has yet to hit. 

He finds the medicine, and, desperate to put an end to this smell, he takes the full dose. Then he sits, takes a few deep breathes, watches the door and waits for his heart to stop racing. 

"Shit."

~

Thirty minutes later he's still putting out the scent – not nearly as much, but it lingers, tapering off slowly. He can't wait any longer, though, it's time for drills, he's already going to be late as is.

He makes it to the courtyard and slides into place, in the front row of the formation.

"Cutting it close," Connie says without looking Jean's direction, holding his at-ease position.

"Lucky for you the commander's joining us today," Sasha says, just to the left of him. 

Jean thinks this is sarcastic until he glances over and sees Captain Levi distracted by a conversation with the familiar, imposing figure of Commander Erwin – possibly missing Jean's late arrival entirely. It is, indeed, lucky for Jean and he finally relaxes, possibly for the first time since this morning, happy to fall back into his usual, boring routine.

They're supposed to stand in patient, respectful silence until their commanding officer to addresses them, but the conversation drags... and drags.

Sasha muffles a yawn.

It looks like Erwin and Levi are enjoying themselves, standing relaxed and easy as though there weren't a group of 50 soldiers waiting at attention.

"… What if Erwin's the catcher?" Connie wonders suddenly, under his breath. 

Everyone knows Erwin and Levi are mated, an alpha and beta respectively. The mental image of Levi being the one to penetrate Erwin is, after all the fear and stress of this morning, very hilarious, Jean can visualize it clearly: Levi's sour expression, clinically ordering Erwin to bend over at the waist – Jean takes a deep, calming breath to keep from laughing out loud. 

"The captain probably inspects him with his glove first," Jean says, once his voice is steady enough. "Makes sure it's clean enough."

Connie, Sasha, and another soldier he hadn't been aware was listening, laugh. Jean smirks to himself for a moment, before he sees Erwin. Staring directly at him. The amusement dies, cold and twitching at his feet. 

There is no way he didn't hear. 

Fuck.

All the bored, impatient murmurs stop as soon as Erwin starts walking toward them. Jean, Sasha and Connie keep their gazes forward with strict, regimented obedience as he gets closer.

"Good morning, cadets."

"Yes, sir!" they all say. Jean sweats, his poor, overworked heart whipped back up as Erwin passes Sasha, then Connie. 

He stops. Looks down at Jean.

"Salute, Kirstein."

Confused, as he is already saluting, Jean redoes it, standing straighter, moving sharper. "Yes, sir!" 

"A _proper_ salute."

"Sir?"

" _Omega._ "

"… Sir," Jean says again, quietly, almost pleading, though he knows there's not going to be any mercy. 

Erwin raises an eyebrow – and this kind of focused attention from a senior officer would be embarrassing anyway, but it doesn't help that it's the commander, _Commander Erwin_ , who, if Jean is being honest, he's had an idle, lazy crush on for almost a year. 

He is horrified to feel a prick of lust, instincts that are hundreds of years old and too fucking stupid to be able to tell the difference between a happily mated alpha punishing him, and an interested, virile alpha inspecting him – it's all the same adrenaline-fueled obedience.

Slowly, Jean drops to his knees. Fingers twined together at the small of his back, neck bared. An omega "salute," back when the omega presence was still experimental in the military, before they were streamlined in as regular soldiers. They're taught it, but Jean never thought he'd be expected to do it, let alone in a large group like this. 

Erwin bends down, his hands warm and startlingly large on Jean's hips, correcting his stance in a firm push.

" _Ah_ ," Jean bites out quietly, surprised by the touch. He stares at the wall over Erwin's shoulder, trying not to shiver when the man's hands spread his legs further apart, then thick fingers land on the small of his back, traveling up the curve of his spine – checking his posture. Omegas don't sit with their backs straight. They arch, presenting themselves pleasantly for their superiors. 

Jean shudders, eyes wide, thanking the walls themselves that he thought to take the full dose of suppressants. He can feel this attention building a cloud inside him, something strong and potent, and the very thought of releasing that _here_ and _now_ is humiliating. Connie shifts a bit and he imagines a good amount is probably leaking out anyway. If the scent from before was declaring Jean wasn't a threat, this is – Jean's not really sure what this is saying. _I'm here, I'm healthy, notice me_ , maybe. He doesn't know how to stop it from building inside of him.

Erwin stands, apparently pleased. 

"At ease – not you, Kirstein," Erwin says, and Jean somehow knew this would be the case, he hadn't bothered relaxing at all. He closes his eyes in humiliation. The arousal from before is pooling hot in his gut, his loins, but it cools quickly as Erwin keeps walking, moving along the line. Now the only gaze Jean can feel is that of his peers. Connie, Sasha, Daz, alphas and betas, staring. Chest out, neck bared. He's on display. This is not appealing, not even to his most base instincts. 

He burns, _knowing_ how it's spreading across the troop, traveling from person to person. Kirstein, that mouthy fuck, he's an _omega_? It's like the punchline to a joke, to some of them. He's unable to listen to today's drill, the instructions for today, barely able to hold his stance, so deeply, utterly embarrassed. 

He hears the dismissal call, but stays where he is until given permission. 

"At ease, Kirstein."

Jean blinks open his eyes. At ease for an omega… ? Jean's not sure if he can recall. He gives a guess, letting his head back down, relaxing his arms. 

"Stand," Erwin says.

Jean does. 

They're alone now in the courtyard, except for Levi, who watches from a distance, impassively. 

Jean stares down at the ground between them, furious and red-faced. It feels stupid, now, but Jean had imagined, one day, speaking to Commander Erwin like this, in private. At that time he had wanted to be _impressive_ , wanted Erwin to notice him for – for his quick thinking or his skills on the field, for being an exceptional soldier. That is obviously impossible now. Maybe it always was. No one who witnessed that display will think of Jean as anything more than a mouthy, rude omega. 

It takes everything in him not to jerk away in surprise when Erwin's finger touches his chin, lifting it up, so Jean is forced to look at his face rather than his shoes. This is definitely not approved contact between commander and subordinate, but there are always exceptions for omegas. 

"Did you take your suppressants, Kirstein?"

"Yes, sir," Jean says.

Erwin raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

"There was – an incident this morning," Jean mutters, humiliated to tell this to _Erwin_ of all people. "With an alpha."

"Ah," Erwin says, apparently hearing enough. "Well, regardless of the cause, I must apologize. I realize now I acted in response to your scent, and that was an unnecessarily harsh reprimand… Moving forward, it may be best for you to report to the infirmary when experiencing one of these episodes. I wouldn't want your promising career jeopardized by an alpha who can't control themselves."

"Yes sir," Jean says, quietly. The heat is returning, stronger than before. He realizes that Erwin's hand is still on his chin. 

He's never been handled like an omega before. 

He's never allowed it, never welcomed it, as far as he knows, no one has ever even thought to do it. He's heard about this reaction to an alpha's "firm hand" before, but was sure it was some exaggerated alpha nonsense. Here it is, though – Erwin punished him, humiliated him, and Jean is practically thrumming with heat from this, the first hint of Erwin's approval. He wants to get closer. Wants to press into Erwin's hand and bask in his touch. He was basically spanked in front of everyone and now has the strangest, stupidest want to just linger around in Erwin's shadow as long as he'll be allowed. 

Erwin is watching him with bright, hungry intensity, breathing in through his nose like Reiner did earlier, taking in Jean's scent. Erwin swallows thickly, Jean watches the movement of his throat.

"You're dismissed," Erwin says.

"Yes sir," Jean says. It sounds oddly husky, and when Erwin takes his hand away, Jean nearly loses his balance, torn between standing still and following Erwin's touch. 

"Tch. Don't you have something better to do than bat your eyes at the commander?" Levi says. 

Like a bucket of cold water over Jean's head, he realizes how – blatant and pathetic and ridiculous he's being. "I'm – " a denial and apology fight on his tongue, leaving him stuttering. 

Erwin smiles. "Just try to behave yourself in the future."

Then he dismisses Jean again with a friendly pat on the ass. 

"And be on time tomorrow!" Levi calls out after him.

~

Jean hasn't been given any orders for the day, and he supposes this is one nightmarish way to get out of work. He's shaky, head a fog of pheromones, humiliation and arousal. It's only been an hour or so since this morning and his body is _still_ trying to make sure everyone around him knows he's not a threat. He hurries down the hall, trying to hide his half-hard erection. He wants somewhere high and isolated, and ends up in one of the lookout posts used for exercises, and therefore empty today. 

He's up there for some time, clinging to the quiet and privacy, but it doesn't help, and he's immediately back to panic when he hears the heavy footsteps thudding up the ladder to join him.

"Oi, Ar – " Eren stops, staring in surprise at Jean. "Thought I smelled Armin up here."

Jean scowls, forcing himself to relax from where he'd pressed himself against the wall in fear. Eren, an alpha, and annoying, and just generally awful, and the perfect target for Jean's horrified frustration of the day. "Well, you didn't."

He can see the moment Eren remembers that Jean is an omega, too. Then he hesitates. They generally get along nowadays, but there's an element of wildness in their relationship, and virtually any reaction would be unsurprising – Eren ducking back down to leave Jean to himself, Eren using this as an excuse to start a fight, or, as he does, climbing up into the post to see what caused Jean's face to turn such a bright red. 

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Jean glares. 

"The only time Armin smells like this is after something pretty bad happened," Eren says. 

"Good to know, but unless you think I'm hiding Armin up my ass, you're free to go." 

"Oh – is this because of this morning? With Reiner?"

"Don't you have something better to do?"

"Not really," Eren says. "You try to hit on Mikasa again?"

"The Commander," Jean says, through his teeth, "Had me do an omega salute. In front of the entire troop."

Eren blinks and glances down at Jean's crotch before Jean can hide it, and he could not be more embarrassed. 

"It's not – anything! I didn't – !" Jean spits out, unable to look Eren in the face. "It's just – instinct!" 

"I know," Eren says. Jean looks up in surprise. Eren's eyes are actually – kind. It's disarming. "The Commander probably didn't know what he was doing, it's not like there are many omegas in Survey Corps."

"He knew. He apologized, like that will help anything," Jean scowls, crossing his arms. But he's also remembering that Eren is mated to Armin, they've been friends their whole lives. So – maybe Eren actually does know, maybe he's not judging. He grits his teeth, resigning himself to this conversation, to speaking to Eren as an alpha, rather than just his loud mouthed rival. "Everyone… saw, everyone… " They all _know_. And they won't forget it, not after that. "And … I've never … " Jean shudders uncomfortably. He's never felt himself like this. He doesn't know what's going to come next, what would make it better. He's experienced arousal in the past, but this is something different, it's mixing with the cloud of scents already inside him, it feels more pressing, like an actual, urgent need that has to be addressed, but… "I don't know what I'm supposed to do," he finishes, miserably. 

Alphas are caretakers, sometimes to the annoyance of the betas around them. Jean's seen it in Mikasa but Eren tends to be more of the circling the wagons type alpha, active and protective and blunt about it. 

But he's looking at Jean with something like softness, tilting his head to the side, reminding Jean of a cat. He moves a little closer. "You've really never felt like this before? Never – had an alpha? Like that?"

"Of course not. Most people think I _am_ an alpha." 

Eren scoffs. " _No one_ thinks Jean Kirstein is an alpha." 

"Well they didn't think I was an omega!"

Usually that tone would be the start of a fight, but, shockingly, Eren's eyes go soft again. "I could – " he stops. "I could get Armin, he could talk to you about it."

That would be the smart thing. But he's struck with the sudden realization that that would involve Eren leaving, climbing back down the ladder, and how little Jean wants that to happen. How horrible it would be if it did. Eren is an alpha, one that won't attempt to rip his throat out or put Jean on display. He's still looking at Jean with sympathy, eyes still soft, and he would like to be around that as long as possible.

"Do whatever you want," Jean mutters.

Eren watches him for a moment, then settles in, moving just slightly closer, getting comfortable. "What happened this morning?" 

"Nothing you didn't see. I accidentally challenged Reiner and he lost it," Jean says. 

"After that?"

"After that … I took more suppressants, showed up late for drills, bad mouthed Erwin when he could hear it, got punished in front of the entire troop, then Erwin – " he trips up here. "Apologized."

"Did you get in trouble? For showing up late?"

"No," Jean says. More questions come, and eventually Jean realizes this isn't leading anywhere. Eren's just – letting him talk, apparently. Jean's surprised at how much this helps, and only realizes he's been holding his fists in a tight, white knuckled grip when he finally relaxes them. With it comes a soothing sense of calm, the cloud inside him has thinned, dissipating to faint whispers of gossamer, and Jean sighs in relief.

Only to feel something _new_ building. 

"What is _this?_ " Jean demands, frustrated with his strange fucking body. "You smell that??"

"That's …" Eren seems bashful now, scratching his cheek as he looks to the side. He's trying to hide a smile. "How an omega smells when they feel safe."

Jean feels his eyes widen, the embarrassment builds, "You're serious?? How many scents does an omega have??" 

"Armin could probably answer that," Eren says with a grin and a shrug. "I still can't believe you never put any out before. Armin's doing it since Shiganshina."

"Good for him," Jean says. Maybe the difference is acceptance. Armin as an omega makes sense. Jean doesn't, and he didn't want to. "I guess this is it now, right? I'm never going back to normal, everyone will be able to smell it if I'm reading or jerking off or what?"

"I don't know," Eren says. "Maybe it's stronger cause it's the first time? Armin's never acted like it was a problem, really."

"I'm not Armin," Jean says, annoyance making the words hot and tight. It's something that's been a point of pride for Jean, that he's not _that kind_ of an omega. He winced after he says it, waiting for Eren to take offense, but again, alpha Eren talking to omega Jean is different and new. 

"Hey – today doesn't sound like it's been great," Eren says, a little awkwardly, but eyes bright at the chance to do it. "But it's really not that bad to be an omega. People could help you with it. If you want."

"I don't," Jean says, flat. There's a pointed silence that turns Jean's face pink. Jean's lie exposed by his scent, still coming out if him in contented waves. Reiner won't attack him with Eren there. The commander won't touch him with Eren here. He's safe.

"Hey, we should probably head down. It's getting near lunch," Eren pauses. "I could send Armin up here with some food – "

"No," Jean says. "I mean we both know I'm all better, so." He gestures for Eren to continue on down the ladder. Jean follows after. 

~

" _Omega_ Kirstein." 

"What. Do you want?" Jean asks. He has been exhausted by this awful day, slumped over and resting his head on his arm as he pokes at his meal. He doesn't bother to sit up straight, slowly raising his eyes to even look at the soldier in front of his table. 

"That's why you're such a tight ass. You need someone to loosen it up?"

"Seriously. Just fuck off," Jean says, glowering. He's not sure he could take this guy. He's shorter than Jean, and a beta, but he's also Survey Corps, and still alive, which definitely means something. Jean thinks he could probably win, but he doesn't feel like getting burned for a fourth time today by starting a fight he can't finish. He also doesn't feel like getting up.

"Maybe I can help you?"

Jean looks up, surprised – Marco. He's standing behind Jean's chair, staring at the beta across from them. 

"I know you're mated to Mina, man," says the soldier, unimpressed. 

Marco is an alpha, but it's something you could easily miss, at first. He's got a quiet, steady confidence, he doesn't flaunt it or make a show of himself. He doesn't have the alpha _strut_ – he gets where he's going, when he means to, in sure, measured steps. 

But Marco doesn't seem to be content with that today – he doesn't back off at all. 

"So you can scratch me, Mina and Jean off your list of potential mates," Marco says. "That leaves a whole room full of people open to your offer." 

His voice is calm, but he bends forward, planting his fists on the table, on either side of Jean's meal. Jean's slumped low enough, doesn't even have to bend for Marco to surround Jean protectively. He can hear the steel underscore to Marco's very pleasant voice, his slight, warning growl, all around him. It's… impressive. Jean notices the strength in his arms, the muscle there, thick and powerful. His size, his sturdy, solid bulk. Jean glances back up at the beta, wondering how he'll respond.

The beta doesn't seem to really know, either, growling slightly, wanting to challenge Marco, but Marco's pleasant words have left him confused, lacking a good enough excuse. Jean realizes the entire room is staring. 

"So you're fucking both of them?" he finally says. "Greedy ass alphas."

Marco isn't known for his speed. He is slow, and deliberate, and determined; the unmovable object. But his hand flies across the table so fast Jean misses it completely, only catching up once Marco's grabbed the soldier by the collar of his shirt, _yanking_ him forward. 

"That's really none of your business," Marco is in the beta's face, voice steady, intimidating murmur, quiet enough that the only reason Jean can hear it is because he's directly beneath them. "You're going to keep your hands off of Jean, or you'll be speaking to me about it. Alright?" The guy tries to pull away and Marco jerks him forward again. "Alright?"

"Alright! Fuck!"

Marco releases his collar and the beta goes stumbling back. 

"Good!" Marco says, and sits beside Jean, just slightly closer than normal. 

"Don't do that again," Jean says, after the beta scurries away.

"Sorry," Marco says, smiling sheepishly. 

"I'm serious," Jean says, clenching his jaw. 

He feels safe. Relaxed. All the stress – of everything, of his strange arousal from Erwin, of the rumors, of his reputation – dims in Marco's presence. Marco is keeping it all at bay, not letting it touch Jean, and expects nothing in return. It's an immense relief. Jean likes it. He doesn't want to like it, so Marco had better not do it again. 

"Things will get back to normal soon," Marco says, eying the room casually, stabbing into his vegetable mash. "Once the novelty wears off. Did Erwin really call you out as an omega in front of the entire drill team?"

"Yep," Jean says, finally sitting up straight. He notices after a beat that Marco is glaring up at the officer's table, where Erwin typically sits. He barks out a laugh. "Right, Marco, go have a talk with Commander Erwin, too."

"I'm not thinking _that_ , he just – he shouldn't have done that," Marco says. "He put you in an awful position."

"Yeah. He apologized," Jean says, and is kind of amused now, by Marco's flustered protectiveness. 

"Did he?" Marco says, seeming surprised. His bad mood upended. 

"As much good as that does," Jean says. "But yeah."

"… The novelty will wear off," Marco says again. 

"Fingers fucking crossed."

~

An hour before bed, Jean finally does his actual, first bit of work for the day, keeping watch on the top of the camp's wall, along with a handful of other soldiers. Thankfully, no one else mentions what happened this morning. Except Reiner.

"You left your post," Jean says, staring forward uncomfortably when Reiner approaches. 

"You're scared of me," Reiner says. 

Jean doesn't say anything, because what on earth can he say? He is. He doesn't want to be, but it's the kind of thing that will take a while for his body to forget, if it ever does. It's taking everything in him now not to drop to the floor in some ridiculous display of submission. 

Reiner sighs, heavily, and heads back to his post, apparently knowing it's useless. Jean wonders if he was a beta instead of an omega if he'd be able to handle it better. He scowls down at the yard. No wonder they didn't want omegas in the military. 

"Uh oh," Eren says, from his perch. "Looks like we've got some hostile invaders."

They all look.

"Seems past their bedtime," Marco says. 

It's kids from the local town, toddling across the field. They've got a habit of running up and inspecting the wall, sometimes throwing rocks or playing around in the grass until they're scared off. 

Jean just watches as a group of soldiers swing down there to take care of it. Marco, Eren and Reiner are with them, and do a notably poor job – it's not long before the group of children are climbing all over Reiner, Marco's bending over to talk to one and Eren swinging one onto his back.

Children exist, but Jean's has never really thought about that existence before, and he watches, bored, chin in his hand. After a while of watching placidly, he decides it's a nice scene. Like, objectively. Marco and Eren and Reiner are all strong, yet so very gentle and careful with the children, lifting them, shaking their hands, tossing a few into the air. They are good with them, enjoying themselves. 

Those are his most immediate thoughts as he goes to bed that night, still thinking of them playing with the children. 


	2. Marco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean gets molested by cadets, rescued by Levi, then piled on by Marco and Mina. This will definitely be more than three chapters, lmao fml.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this strikes a really weird note between "not quite mpreggy enough" for people who actually LIKE mpreg, and "too mpreggy" for people who do not. If you do like mpreg/breeding/etc, fear not, this will get more explicit on that point as the chapters go on, and Jean becomes more accustomed to the idea. For now Jean is just exploring the shallow end of it with Mina and Marco. :33 (Mina is not here for all the sexy times, just the start of it.)
> 
> ALSO, this will definitely be finished but I will probably be going on a tiny bit of a hiatus until late January - I mean, if I'm responsible I will. But I might be irresponsible and write just a fuckton of Jean fanfic to procrastinate, who knows.

Out in the yard, hidden in the overgrowth near the wall, there is a rabbit. 

(Jean is dreaming.)

Jean kneels in the grass, pushing the weeds and branches away, and finds the little thing shivering in the cold. 

He picks it up, cradles it against his chest, and brings it inside. He grabs extra blankets and fluffs them up, placing the rabbit carefully in the center, then takes a step back, hands on his hips, proud of himself. He looks back out the window, and sees another rabbit, beside the wall, like the first one, just as cold. He carries this one inside as well, setting it beside the first. He knows there must be many of them out there, and this is how the rest of his dream is spent, bringing rabbit after rabbit inside, warming them up, wrapping them up. The weight of them in his arms and against his chest feels especially real, and it is a tremendously satisfying dream. 

~

Jean sits up in bed feeling a little woozy, but generally alright. 

He blinks slowly as he looks around the room, trying to relearn the space, trying to relearn himself. Something feels different, the pleasant, slight pressure of the blanket against his legs. The softness of the mattress beneath him. The feather-light breeze against his cheek. 

It's nice. 

He's never felt this aware and sensitive, the coolness in the air and the smells down the hall and the colors in his uniform. He's especially warm, but he likes that. His dick is half hard, ready for attention but not distracting, not demanding. He's never been so content to just exist, and hums in pleasure, squirming a bit.

He thinks he could sit there for hours, but there's something he should be doing... Ah! Jean feels especially clever when he remembers breakfast, and morning drills, the usual duties of a Survey Corps soldier, and the world around him as a whole. 

He gets dressed slowly, occasionally distracted by the pleasant scratches and rub of the fabric that send shivers up and down his body, and walking down the hall feels a little like he's floating, oddly detached, relaxed, lips tingling. 

And, well, there's no doubt about it, not once he enters the dining hall. 

Jean is in heat. 

He knows this is _bad_ , and he should be worried, but he's actually relieved. He wishes he could somehow send this knowledge to his past self, how relaxed and pleasant it feels. Not imposing or restricting like he'd feared – just the opposite. He can smell soldiers around him, and each distinct scent just makes him feel that much better, like he's walking through a buffet. Whispers of musk, heavier florals, notes that are sweet, smoky, woody, and some he's never smelled before, has no words for, but leave his mouth watering regardless – 

In this daze, he goes through the motions of getting breakfast, sitting down at the first open space.

It goes about as well as it did yesterday.

"You smell that?"

"Is that – Kirstein?"

Jean glances over at the other cadets at his table. They're staring at him, blinking owlishly. He knows their faces, vaguely. He's used to this, many soldiers he meets know his name before he knows theirs, mostly because of his history with Eren. They smell good. Vanilla and pine and – and woodsaw – something citrus, and Jean hums, trying to sort them all out. There are a lot of them, and he's new to this. They're all so _nice_.

"You alright, Jean?"

"Mm," Jean says, smartly.

"You look drunk."

"He's in heat."

"No way."

"Fucking look at him."

"Fuck. You think it's true? He's an omega?"

"Either that or the best smelling beta in Survey Corps," says the alpha. 

"Is that right Kirstein? Are you an omega?"

Jean says nothing, but it doesn't seem like they expect a response anyway. They're moving closer, which means Jean can smell them better. The contentment in Jean is rising, heating, blossoming into something like eagerness, excitement. He wants them near, _yes_ , that would be very nice, so nice, in fact, Jean finds himself panting. 

He knows his body is producing a cloud, something far stronger than yesterday and flowing out of him in potent waves. _Yes, I like you, come here..._

A larger body moves behind Jean, pressing against Jean's back. Jean doesn't know which cadet, but the touch is warm and beneath their own scent – pine, and leather – is something familiar, the oil they use for the torches in the halls, the oats in the stables, the cleaner for their uniforms. They're a member of Jean's _pack_ , and it's the only thing his body cares about. Safe. 

Jean relaxes into the embrace, nuzzling up against them to show he likes it, to encourage more of it. 

"Holy shit, Kirstein..." 

Jean gasps quietly at the first, tentative touch: hands on the inside of his legs, moving up the length of his inner thighs, toward the warmest part of Jean, the most sensitive skin, where his legs meet. He moans softly as he's lifted briefly, set properly on top of the alpha's lap, legs spread. 

The alpha is hard. 

The feel of a cock, ridged and swollen, against his ass, makes Jean's breath stutter in his chest, eyes going wide as something electric and sharp pierces down to his core. He writhes against it on instinct, wild and aimless, everything in him _wants it, yes, that, **that** , wants it_.

"Holy _fuck_ , look at him."

The touch returns, bolder now, just where he wants it, right there at his center, at his own hard and ready dick. Jean moans wildly, hips rolling up into the firm rub of the alpha's palm. 

This sets the group off. Hands and mouths descend on him with clumsy, eager speed, one on his chest and Jean is grateful for the fingers working at the belts – they're in the way of the third pair of hands, resting on his ribs, his sides, sliding up, then down.

"Man, his waist is unreal, look at that."

"Curved like a girl... " one of them says. The hands slide down Jean's stomach, and there are two hands on his dick now, hot and firm, _yesss_. His clothes are losing their shape, and he realizes they're sliding off his body, encouraged by the exploring, greedy hands. The thigh between his legs is thick and Jean ruts against it, moaning.

"His skin's so soft," someone says, and Jean shivers, arching and whimpering when nails scratch lightly down his back. "That was nice, what'd you do?"

"Just this," the voice laughs, and the nails dig in deeper and Jean whimpers again. "Sensitive, huh?" Yes, he is, impossibly so, and no one has ever touched him like this, ever, he's never felt a palm pressing against his inner thigh or lower back or his dick, and he can't believe just how great it feels. A tongue sliding from his shoulder to the back of his neck has him gasping, eyes nearly crossing, then distracted by thumbs at his chest, working his nipples – 

"Ah! Nng – please – "

"Shit, listen to that," someone says, and the thumbs rub _lighter_ , the teasing touch has his hips bucking helplessly. 

"You're real pretty like this, Jean." 

" _Please_ ," Jean moans, wanting – more, he needs _more_ , and the hands on his dick grow rougher, moving faster. Jean writhes, it's _good_ , but he wants – he wants something else, and he rocks his hips hopefully against the cock still pressed up against him. 

"Look at his mouth," fingers are on his lips, and Jean lets his mouth open, sucking eagerly on the thick fingers that slide inside. 

"Shit. He's kinda sexy like this."

"Never gonna look at Kirstein the same… "

There are teeth, now, landing on his neck, and they bring tongues, sliding down his chest and – oh – a tongue on his nipple, flicking against that delicious, raw nerve as he's shamelessly manhandled, lifted up, and legs spread wide, wide apart and – oh – on display, he's on display, and he humps upward, hopefully. 

"Yeah? You like this, Jean?"

Jean arches up as an answer, and cracks his eyes open – they're watching him with such terrifying intensity it's almost enough to shake him out of the pleasant buzz in his head. He closes his eyes again with a whine, content with smells, with touches. 

A hand fists in his hair, yanking his head back, leaning against his shoulder and bearing his neck. The noise he makes is garbled around the fingers in his mouth, the teeth on his neck, tongue going up his thigh, _between his legs there yesyesyes_ – this display is nothing like the humiliation of yesterday. Desperate arousal is building, churning in his center, growing stronger and stronger, he's drowning in the scent of his pack and feels safe, and content, and _wanting_. He knows this is where he was meant to be, what he was meant to be, how this impossibly growing need will be satisfied.

"Seriously, you think we can – we can fuck him?"

"You alright with that, Jean?"

"Yeah he is, just look how he's moving his hips."

"He wants it bad."

Shared laughter.

Even through his haze, Jean can tell this is odd. Alphas are territorial, possessive, aggressive in sex, yet there seems to be an almost companionable, pleased purr in the group as they share Jean between them, passing him around, rubbing and licking and spreading Jean how they like. There should be violence and bloodshed, but the easy dialogue is still going on above his head. 

"Bend his legs up, let's see – look at that hole."

Jean closes his eyes as he's manhandled up, knees brought up to his chest, lifting his ass up, thumbs spreading the cheeks of his ass boldly. 

He pants, toes curling as a finger circles Jean's ridiculously sensitive entrance, rubbing at the slick they find there. It overwhelms all other touches and want surges so real and urgent in his gut that Jean's jaw wobbles, and he bucks his hips needily. "Please – "

"It's already wet?" 

"God, it's so pink – "

"He's gotta be an omega, look at that."

"I'm gonna fuck him, I'm gonna fuck a baby into him – "

"Better get in line."

"Ah!" the fingers are pressing inside, finally, _yes_ , "Yes, yes," Jean gasps in pleasure, oh god, that bit was _definitely_ meant to go there, up inside him.

"So wet."

"So much nicer than his mouth up here."

"I donno, it seems pretty sweet today, listen to it." But Jean's moans are muffled by a pair of fingers pressing into his mouth, which he sucks on, desperate and delirious. 

The hands keep rubbing and pressing, deeper inside, though every part of him is being fondled and groped and touched – everything is building inside him, hurrying toward a climax. "Please – yes – " just a few more touches there – 

_BANG!_

Jean's heard the acoustic flare only once before, but it's not a sound he'll forget any time soon; he knows exactly what that awful, thunderous bang is, loud enough to knock the air from his chest. He finds himself dropped heavily back onto the alpha's lap, then yanked hard and tight in a protective embrace against their chest, one large hand groping the cheek of his ass possessively.

"You horny bastards are spending the rest of the day outside, emptying the grain shed." Levi.

Jean blinks wildly, trying to catch his breath, looking around the room with clear eyes. He realizes there's a swarm of about thirty cadets around him, but otherwise the room has emptied. The group does not seem at all keen on Captain Levi's order.

"Starting _now_ ," Levi says again. He makes his way through the crowd, grabs the thumb of the alpha currently holding Jean and yanks it until they release Jean with a sharp yelp of pain. 

Levi grabs Jean with strength that really shouldn't be surprising, but is, and Jean stumbles to the ground. One of the alphas growls, and Levi gets in their face, putting himself between them and Jean. 

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

There's a tense moment, and Jean actually thinks – hopes – maybe they might challenge Levi, that they'll win, and touch him again, finally reach up inside – satisfy the need that's still making his thighs quiver, his breath shake.

But they don't. 

They leave, and Jean watches, horrified, wanting to crawl after them. No, no, he was so _close_ and his need is literally sliding down his thighs. 

"Not satisfied with the show you put on already? Want to do an encore out in the yard?" Levi asks, picking up Jean's discarded pants, throwing them in his direction. "You're in full blown heat. You're going to the infirmary, like you should've done an hour ago." 

"But – " Torn between arousal and humiliation, Jean tries to hide his dripping nakedness with one hand, covering his mouth with the other, moaning. "I need – please, p-please, I need – "

"What you _need_... " Levi's voice trails off abruptly. He's already standing close but he steps closer, grabs a fist full of Jean's hair and yanks his head back. He glares, expression hot and intense.

Jean finds his voice trickling dry. 

Levi smells good. Levi smells _amazing_ , pure and sharp, a field after rain, so _fresh_ it's almost abrasive, and a faint hint of citrus, maybe. It's especially nice after the heavier scents of the cadets, and Jean's breathing it in, lost in it, enough to be startled when Levi leans forward, pressing his face against Jean's neck. 

He opens his mouth and Jean tenses, anticipating the bite, _wanting_ it, he can feel Levi's hot exhales on his neck and then his teeth, resting against his skin. Jean moans.

"Oh." Levi lets go, and takes three quick steps back, taking his scent with him. "Shit."

~

The infirmary Levi directs him to is not the one Jean's gone to in the past for colds and injuries. This one is on a higher floor, with three individual rooms rather than an open, communal space. At first Jean thinks the room he's directed to is small, there's barely any room to stand, then realizes it's just the unusually large bed they've crammed in here, taking up most of the space. The implications make Jean blush, though he is grateful for the privacy, hoping for a chance to see himself done before he can get some suppressants.

Unfortunately, Levi doesn't seem to have any intention of leaving, closing the door behind them and leaning against it, arms crossed.

"Erwin wasn't the only alpha who got you worked up yesterday, was he?" Levi asks.

He asks in such a dull, matter of fact voice, it's almost not even embarrassing for Jean to give the names; Reiner and Eren. He thinks of Marco... but no, he decides, that was too normal. He didn't feel anything in particular because of Marco's actions. He's fairly sure.

"What about suppressants?" Jean almost pleads – the unsatisfied, rolling need in his body is an impossible distraction, and it is a supremely uncomfortable thing to be experiencing in front of his captain. He'd be humping the bed if he could, and finds himself tilting his head just slightly to the side, as if hoping to entice Levi to bite, like he almost did before – he'd take it, he'd take anything. 

It's not working, of course, Levi has excellent self-control and Jean finds himself scowling that he'd been molested by such inept cadets; _none of them_ managed to get a dick in him? Though the thought will probably horrify him tomorrow. 

"Suppressants won't do any good," Levi says. "You're not in heat."

"Huh?"

"You're in _fertile_ heat," Levi says. 

Jean's never heard of that, but Levi's expression has fear resting its cold hand on the small of his back. "What's the difference?"

"The _difference_ – " Annoyance suddenly drops from Levi's voice. He sighs, pressing his fingers against his temple. "I've only ever seen it happen underground," he says. His voice is quiet, and slow, and very serious. "Most omegas are mated by your age. Or around alphas who can fucking control themselves." He glares again, at an empty spot in the room between them. There's a long pause after that but it still doesn't prepare Jean for what comes next. 

"A fertile heat won't end until the omega is actually pregnant."

Jean stares. 

His thoughts are abruptly light and hollow enough to be carried off in a faint breeze, leaving him in true, stunned silence. 

Levi continues, though is obviously uncomfortable. "Suppressants can delay the process, but it just makes the heat stronger when they wear off," he says. "It can only be satisfied by alphas. Typically the alphas that triggered the heat are responsible for ending it. It makes the process go faster, since the omega was basically primed for them anyway."

"That's – I don't – understand," Jean says. It's clear Jean does understand, though, he'd just rather _not_. Levi explains more anyway; the point of the omega is to have babies, have many, many babies, a single person that a pack can devote all their resources to, with minimal risk. Omegas meet that need, and strengthen the pack, create larger ones, and encourage alphas to cooperate. 

Jean feels himself getting sick. "We're not an actual _pack._ " Proper packs haven't existed since the walls went up. But that only reminds Jean of what happened earlier, and how exactly the term had fit the swarm of cadets around him, or at least that's how his body understood it. But Jean really can't be destined to – to be some come bucket, passed around from one officer to the next. He realizes his hands have started shaking, and crosses his arms tightly. 

"All your body cares is that this is as good a place as any to do what it's designed for," Levi says. "You're surrounded by alphas who can protect … a litter."

The term _litter_ spooks Jean to his core, and he literally recoils. "No, no, you can't - " Levi can't _what?_ Can't _know_? Except it's obvious he does, there's nothing but bitter pity in his face, and Jean knows, instinctively, this is the truth, there's nothing he can do but accept it, but. "This is - this is just a strong heat. It'll pass and - "

"Do you know all the omegas in Survey Corps?" Levi asks.

He knows Armin, and himself, which leaves a third he's never bothered to find out about, it's not exactly something anyone would want to... Jean looks again at Levi's face. " _You?_ "

"Hn," Levi grunts. Jean's mouth goes slack, silent as Levi continues. "The only heats that impact other omegas are fertile heats. Alphas will want to knot you, and mated betas and omegas will want to put their mark on you – present you to their alpha. Offer you to them."

Jean puts his hand over the part of his neck Levi brushed his teeth against. 

"I'll just… stay away from them. Everyone," Jean decides as he says it. "I'll wait it out."

"You'd be the first one to pull that trick off," Levi says. "It's fading for now, but that won't last. I've seen omegas acting like mindless animals because of this. What you experienced before is nothing, and it's only going to get worse the longer you wait."

"You can't – you can't make me – "

"I'm not going to make you do anything," Levi says, pushing himself away from the door. "No one is. You can decide whatever you want. Let the nurse know if you want the alphas you mentioned brought up here."

"I'll tell the nurse I want suppressants!" Jean says, then abruptly remembers exactly who he's speaking to, "S-sir." 

Levi pauses. "What do you think _mindless animal_ means? The last omega I saw trying to outrun his heat with suppressants ended up drooling as he shoved a broom handle up inside himself. You want to end up like that?"

"I – I don't... " Jean's head is spinning. "Understand," he finishes. It's the weak, pathetic question of a child. This can't be happening. That group of cadets...! If they _had_ gotten inside, would he already be pregnant? He's going to _get_ pregnant regardless? 

"… You've been given a really shitty hand," Levi says. He's actually facing the door, which maybe makes it easier for him to use that softer tone. "The whole squad has, if we end up losing you."

Levi wants to leave. Jean can tell. He doesn't blame him, he's an omega too - _Levi is an omega??_ \- it's probably hitting uncomfortably close. He wonders why he's waiting at all, then realizes his own breathing has gone erratic, wild and terrified.

"I forgot one of the alphas," Jean says. "I want – I want the nurse to send him up here."

~

"Are you okay?" Mina says, before the door can even close behind her.

Jean has pushed himself into the furthest corner of the room, on the bed, and stares, unable to make sense of Mina's presence for a moment. 

"Marco's on his way," she adds, before he can ask. 

Jean crosses his arms tighter. 

Mina's eyes travel over Jean's body in frantic concern, as if looking for some physical sign of injury. Obviously, both Mina and Marco have already been told everything. Imagining just how that conversation played out is humiliating.

"I'm fine," Jean mutters, annoyed with the scrutiny. He's still shirtless, and barefoot, from this morning. 

"My- my uncle has omega clients who come to him, he has remedies – they don't work for everyone, but if you want… " 

" _Now_ , Mina?" Jean asks, eyes narrow, and Mina wilts. This isn't the first time he's heard about her uncle's supposed miracle cures, and Jean knows they're all about as effective as an especially potent fart. 

"Sorry, I know, I just... wish there was something we could do, besides... "

Jean scowls into the silence, the sentence she couldn't bring herself to finish. Mina – and Marco, really, both of them, have a tendency toward ridiculousness, but it's well meaning ridiculousness, unassuming and sincere. Charming. 

Mina is kind and funny and a good match for Marco, Jean likes her just fine, but not here, now, in this space. Remembering his feelings from yesterday regarding Marco makes him feel guilty and dirty in her presence. 

This is Marco's _actual_ mate. 

Jean is not sweet or kind like Mina. His shoulders shift up defensively as she takes another step into the room. Jean doesn't smell like – like calming lavender, an undeniably strong scent that is still somehow soft… sweet, powdery. 

Jean inhales, testing it. He'd only smelled something vaguely floral from her before, and is surprised at just how strong it actually is – it's strong enough to _taste_. How had he ever missed it? 

Like her scent, Mina herself is very pretty. She's soft, too, even through training she's always kept her roundness and curves, pleasantly sloping hips that Marco likes to rest his hands on when they kiss... She's watching him with the same intense gaze Levi had – she does smell very – _very_ good, Jean can practically see it coming off her in lovely, creamy waves. Jean feels the tension leaving his body, that pleasant, needy insanity from earlier creeping back in. 

"Alright, Jean?" she asks. 

She's blushing. She can smell what Jean's putting out now, his inviting _you seem nice, let's get closer_ scent. She's on the bed, crawling toward him, and is looking at Jean as though he's the last dessert left on a tray – wanting, with a keen edge of desperation. 

Excitement builds in him as she moves even closer, and he finds himself leaning into her touch when her hand brushes against the side of his face. He closes his eyes, wanting it. Wanting more. 

She gives him more.

Jean thinks this counts as is first kiss – more so than the clumsy tongues and teeth before – and is happy with it. Mina tastes as good as she smells. Pleasure lights up in Jean's mind, and he literally shudders his fears away, flaking away, and dismissed. Mina pulls away briefly, and Jean follows after, moaning in need. 

"I'm not going anywhere," she laughs softly, going back in. "Gosh, Jean, you smell so good..."

The door opens. 

"Oh," says Marco.

"Sorry – sorry," Mina says, breathy. She pulls back, licking her lips. 

"Jesus, it smells good in here," Marco says, sounding dazed. "Are – are you alright, Jean?"

"'M fine," he says. Why wouldn't he be? Except that Mina's _stopped touching him_. 

"The nurse told us everything," Marco says. He's taking off his boots? Is – is _Marco_ going to touch him? The idea is so good it makes Jean's breath catch, heat striking hard in his crotch – Jean shifts up, onto his knees, eager, crawling toward the edge of the bed. 

Marco is _far_ better than any random member of the pack, he smells better than just _home_ , he's everything good about it, one of the things that _make_ it home. Jean's always known Marco's scent, clove and cinnamon, and now it's strong enough to remind Jean of his mother's spice cabinet, only opened during special occasions, for very important meals, ones especially well prepared and delicious; basils, saffron, honey. Jean's stomach tightens in anticipation, excitement.

"Marco," he breathes, reaching Marco and resting his hands on his hips. Contact sends an almost tangible surge of want through him, Jean wants to dig his nails into Marco's flesh, the thick muscle in his arms, his thighs, feel the strength there, bury his face in Marco's neck – _touch me, please, please, please, touch me..._

"Oh my god," Marco breathes out in a tight rush. "Jean, you – we should talk about this."

"Okay," Jean agrees easily, panting up at him. That is why he asked for Marco, after all, he knows the inevitable conclusion they're barreling toward, but he had asked for Marco specifically to help him make peace with it. He supposes this is a way to do it – Marco's _scent_ , Marco's an _alpha_. A fucking _alpha_. Jean's thighs quiver, and he's growing slick and wetter than before. 

"If – if there's any other options – Jesus, Jean, slow down, are you sure?"

"Yeah, yes," Jean says, quickly, working at the belts wrapped around Marco's wonderfully solid hips.

"Jean – !"

It's then that Jean is confronted with the reality of Marco's dick. 

Jean stops. 

He drops down onto his heels. He's reminded of the moment in the dining hall, when Reiner snarled, the terrified stillness that blanketed his body, but this isn't terror. He breathes in this, where Marco's scent is strongest, staring at his cock and feels a profound, breathless, aroused submission stilling his movements, making his mouth go slack, face heating.

It's thick, and getting harder, a handsome, dark shade, flushed from arousal. Jean glances back up at Marco, helpless in the face of it, as if hoping for an explanation for its existence, for how to deal with it. 

Marco's smile is fond, and he trails a hand down Jean's cheek, then redoes the fastens on his pants. "Let's slow it down, alright?"

Thin arms wrap around Jean's waist, and Jean is surrounded in calming, soothing lavender. Mina tugs him closer, and Marco climbs up onto the bed properly. 

Jean breathes out, and in.

"So what the nurse told us is true?" Marco asks. "You're in a- a fertile heat?"

Jean nods numbly, whining slightly. 

"Are you… okay? With that? With what it means?"

Jean feels boneless, limp and wanting. He squirms, pressing his thighs together, trying his best to stimulate himself, closing his eyes and savoring Marco and Mina's scents, combined, feeling safe but hot and impatient and _ready_ , please.

"Jean?"

"Marco," Mina says, kindly. "I don't think he really has a choice."

"I just – " Jean's hips are rocking, a craving that's radiating up from there, his core, and consuming him whole. "Marco," he begs.

Mina's carding her hands through Jean's hair. "You smell perfect, Jean," she says, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I think – I think this is perfect, this is just how it should be, don't you, Marco? Isn't he perfect? Aren't you excited?" She's biting her lip. A small hand rests on Jean's stomach. "Our baby, Marco."

"Fuck," Marco laughs tightly, blushing hard. His hand is cradling his crotch, the obvious bulge there as he watches the two of them. "Best thing I've ever seen, walking through the door – you two like that." 

Mina smiles, pressing firmer against Jean's back, and he feels the shape of her round, full breasts, and shudders in need. 

"He'll take good care of you," Mina says to Jean, but is staring boldly at Marco, watching him unravel. "I promise, Jean. Do you want to? Do you want it?"

Jean keens, spreading his legs, _pleasepleaseplease, yes, please…_

She kisses Jean's neck, sweet and gentle.

Then _bites_. 

" _Ah_ – !" Jean arches, something strong and electric traveling up his spine, body quivering as his vision whites out. Did he come...? He sobs for air, unsure. 

He's only vaguely aware of Mina kissing his cheek, and climbing off the bed.

~

It takes him a while to come back down. Jean blinks at the unfamiliar ceiling, breathing slowly. It feels like this morning, when he very first woke up, pleasantly sensitive, floating contentedly above any consequences or concerns. 

Mina has left, Jean knows immediately, just from the scent. He turns his head and sees Marco there, kneeling beside the bed. His eyes are closed and he's resting his head on his arms, but from the crease between his eyebrows he knows Marco is thinking, not sleeping.

It's a familiar sight, and he likes it, smiling to himself as he rolls lazily over onto his stomach. 

"Are you going to fuck me, Marco?"

His eyes snap open. He watches Marco slowly straighten as he breathes in the scent: _I feel so good, will you join me… ?_

Marco huffs, once, climbing back onto the bed. He tips Jean over onto his back as he moves on top, but keeps his distance, staying on his hands and knees. 

"You sure?" Marco asks. 

Tired of this question even in his blissed out delirium, Jean sighs. He can't give the answer Marco wants, it doesn't matter how many times Marco asks. It has to happen, and if it has to happen… "Who else…?" Jean asks. 

Marco, his dear friend, wonderful and understanding Marco, clever and ridiculous and _good_ Marco. He smiles up at him, feeling drugged, running his finger down the side of his face. 

"Mina promised you'd make it good," he reminds him.

"I – I will," Marco says. He grabs Jean's hand, bringing it to his mouth. Turning it over to kiss at the tender skin of his wrist. He inhales, closing his eyes. "You smell – "

"Tell me," Jean says, squirming pleasantly. He shifts, lifting his legs to rest on either side of Marco's thighs, spread wide for him. Jean wishes he'd woken up like this, under Marco. Imagines how much better the day would've gone... Marco groans as if reading Jean's mind.

"Usually, you smell like – like hazelnut, sort of musky, with vanilla?" Marco says. "Very rich. Sort of milky."

"And now?"

" _Very_ milky," Marco sighs out. "Creamy and caramel, just – really good, really… really good."

"I want to see it again," Jean says, suddenly. He looks down, pointedly, at the noticeable bulge in Marco's pants. 

Marco grins, reaching down not for his own pants, but for Jean's. Good. That's just as good. "Not feeling so gun-shy anymore?" 

It's tacky and wet between his legs and his pants slide away with an obscene, wet noise. 

"I wasn't _shy_ ," Jean says, blushing. It sounds like his usual, boasting protests, so he knows Marco's not going to believe him. He bites his lip. "It got me - wet. I didn't know – what to do, I just… " He finds his hips doing a strange little rocking motion at the very memory. It's a lie, he _did_ know what he wanted to do, he wanted to be held down and fucked. It had felt exciting just to kneel in front of it, and he wants to see it again, very badly, finish whatever dirty business it started. 

Marco pulls off his shirt first, the fucking tease, then his pants. Jean uses the heel of his foot to push Marco away, onto his back, and Marco allows it. His dick stands proudly between them, and Jean pauses, seeing something new that he hadn't before, or indeed on any dick, ever. 

"That's a knot," Marco's voice is strained. "U-usually they only happen when you're inside someone, but you smell. Really good."

"You... put that thing inside Mina?" 

"S-she loves it."

Jean swallows thickly, examining the rest of Marco's dick, feeling entranced. It's thicker than before, properly swollen and fat, it looks strong and makes what the cadets from before attempted seem laughable: this is what Jean _actually_ wanted. What he wants now, he supposes, what he will always want, regardless of how this whole fertile heat plays out. His heart races, the feelings from before rising up in him again. He wants to – to do the omega salute, or s-something, he's not sure, never gotten this far, but whatever – whatever Marco wants. He hopes Marco wants him to touch his cock. He wants to nuzzle it, even, press his mouth against it. Wants to stretch his mouth around it.

Wants it inside him. Wants it to fill him full of – of babies.

For the first time the idea is actually – arousing. Marco is smart, and strong, and handsome, and virile, he's the perfect- perfect mate. He looks past Marco's cock, at his expression, the fat pupils, the tension in his shoulders, his arms, in his fingers, grasping the bedspread. He wants to fuck that tension up into Jean. 

He wants to fill Jean with his seed, wants to make Jean's stomach fat with his healthy, perfect babies. 

"Marco..." he says, voice suddenly quite weak. He knows he's putting something out, can only imagine it's something like _now now now now_ because Marco suddenly surges forward like he's been given a direct order, no hesitation. His hands land on the back of Jean's head, bringing him in for a desperate kiss, then wrapping an arm around Jean's middle, pulling Jean flush against him. 

Jean does his best to keep up, licking back, letting Marco move his head as he likes, tipping it to the left and back, then breaking the kiss to travel down Jean's jaw, his chin. 

At his neck, at the bite Mina left, Marco pauses. 

He growls. 

It's the first time Jean's ever heard something like that from Marco and it shakes the breath out of him. Speaks to instincts deep inside, first a spark of fear – _something dangerous_ but, no, not a threat; Marco is safe, he protects him, and has an _alpha cock_ , pressed right up against his stomach. 

The fear turns into something hotter, something that fuels that particular need in him, that pointed craving in his gut, and he moans, clinging to Marco's shoulders. Marco manhandles him up and into his lap, growling again, hands resting on his hips like he does with Mina. 

Then comes the next part, the thing Jean's never seen Marco do to Mina – his hands slide down, to Jean's ass, his touch greedy and fond as he pets the curve, testing the roundness of it, giving a few friendly squeezes that leave Jean short of breath, leaning limply against Marco, chin on his shoulder. He doesn't quite understand it, but the attentions are enough that Jean starts rutting lazily against Marco's stomach, thinking maybe he could come just from this, Marco's squeezing – but just as the thought occurs, Marco's fingers move inward. 

His mouth drops open silently when Marco's finger makes it to his entrance. It's thicker than his own, the nail blunter, and the sensation is equally strange as it is exciting. Jean cants his hips back in some hardwired instinct, and Marco smiles, pressing a kiss to Jean's temple as he slides... in...

"Marco," Jean whines, like he wants to make sure Marco knows what he's doing – it's – it's different from before, Jean is far more clear headed than he was in the dining hall, aware of just how strange, it – 

He blinks. Oh. _Ooh._ Jean realizes he's moving his hips only after Marco laughs lightly. He doesn't stop, doesn't want to stop, the motion of _in out, in out, in out_ is exactly what his body wants, and it feels too good to resist. Marco touched something there, a pleasure so intense it's taking him a third, and fourth, try to even make sense of it. 

" _Oh_ ," he moans, starting to get accustomed, moving more deliberately against the finger rubbing against the knot of nerves, the seed inside him that's rewriting all his senses, centering them around his hole – "M-Marco – that's – ."

"Keep doing that, yeah," Marco instructs, voice kind and pleased. "You're so good at this, Jean."

"Shut up," Jean whines, knowing he's being placated, but thankful for it regardless. Wetness is spreading again, and he can hear the squish of Marco's fingers as he pushes inside, smearing it obscenely around his hole, and thinks his face couldn't get any hotter. 

Unable to get it out of his mind, Jean finally reaches between them and grabs Marco's cock. Marco stiffens, then recovers, nodding. He keeps a bracing hand on Jean's hip and goes back to moving his fingers in and out in that hypnotic rhythm as Jean loses himself to it, and to the cock he's holding in both hands. He strokes it gently, like it's a familiar friend, exploring the heat of it. It's going to go inside him, and he watches the head, feeling a mix of hunger and curiosity when it starts leaking just a bit from the tip... 

"Now?" Marco asks, in a quiet, happy sounding whisper, like he'll keep it a secret, whatever Jean decides. 

Jean nods. 

Marco's hands move to Jean's thighs, grip firm and strong enough to make him moan as he lifts Jean just a bit, shifting to find a more comfortable position. When Jean's lowered back down, he finds the blunt pressure of Marco's dick there waiting for him, pressing suggestively up against him, an insistent demand that he submits to with a sigh as the head slides in.

It comes, sudden and strong, the pleasure that fogged up his mind before, and Jean pants lightly as he nuzzles Marco's neck. _Keep me, keep me, fuck me_ , Jean feels like he could be purring as he slides down Marco's dick. _Fill me…_

"Not – not the knot, not that fast," Marco says, grabbing Jean's ass to stop his descent. It ruins the pleasured haze he'd been floating in, and he kicks a bit, uselessly. 

"I- I want it," Jean says, desperately, unable to believe Marco would take him this far then deny him. "Marco – "

"Shh, you'll get it," Marco says, and tips Jean onto his back. Jean immediately plants his heels against the bed, trying to use the leverage to thrust down onto Marco's knot, as much of a tantrum as he can really throw in this position. He's stuffed already, it doesn't hurt but it's _close_ , these wild motions aren't helping, but his body refuses to be tricked, he wants – he wants all of it – he wants the best part. 

"Jean." Marco puts a hand against Jean's stomach, gentle, but it stills him. "You're going to swell up, here," Marco tells him, expression serious but his excitement is clear, in his eyes. "I'm going to give you a baby. You're going to carry my baby, Jean."

The words send a dark throb of lust through him, releasing that _one specific_ need there, sending it thrumming through his entire body. He shouldn't want it, at all, but he _does_ , wants this alpha's baby. 

The assurance that he'll get it calms him somewhat, and he whimpers, jaw wobbling with need when Marco pulls out, only to thrust _in_.

" _Fuck –_ "

It's thick and delicious, stretching Jean's body. Again, and again, a pleasure leaving him gasping in repeated, steady thrusts. Jean falls into it, murmuring encouragements, gratitude, oh it is _good_ – ridiculously, a memory hits him, Marco in drills, doing push ups, the quick, steady, unwavering pace he had, up and down, up and down, the muscles of his back flexing in time, and this is the rhythm that he's using now to work Jean's body, to send ecstasy through him with each heavy, thrusting, satisfying move of his hips. 

"M-Marco," Jean beckons, grabbing at him with both hands, and Marco does as asked, dropping closer, so Jean can run his hands over his shoulders, over his back, feel those muscles flexing, the strength behind those delicious, controlled thrusts, filling him, rocking his entire body with the force of his want. He can't believe how perfect this alpha is, and feels primal pride rising, in this perfect selection. 

"You're going to look so good, Jean," Marco moans, closing his eyes, tipping his head back as he fucks down into Jean, apparently feeling something similar. Jean whines, rocking his hips to meet Marco's thrusts eagerly. "Everyone – everyone's gonna know who did it, god they're going to be so jealous, you're going to look so good…" 

Jean's dick jumps in interest at Marco's promises, his want and possessiveness.

"Ready for it?" Marco asks, and it takes Jean a moment to realize what he's talking about. When he feels the wide, thick edge of Marco's dick pressing up against his entrance he nods, whimpering. 

It's big.

But Jean's body has been fucked, his hole more open and wet than it's ever been in his life, and his eyes nearly roll up into his head at that impossible stretch, accommodating the thickest part of Marco, unable to believe that his body is capable of it, stunned to a sort of numbness. 

"You're doing so well, Jean," Marco murmurs, such affection in his voice that Jean has to open his eyes, eyes stinging at the overwhelming sensation and the love he sees there, in Marco's face. Marco adjusts his grip on Jean's thighs, what he's been bracing this firm, steady push against. "It'll be good when I get inside, you'll see."

Jean nods wildly, and tries to speak but all he can get out is a breathless huff of air, and then he can't stop, a series of helpless little whimpers and whines until Marco slides in with a _pop_ \- and fuck - _immediately_ nestling _hard_ up against that knot of nerves from before, so _sudden_ it's almost like a slap.

Jean wails, loudly, arching his back at the intense stimulation. 

"Baby – Jean," Marco says, sitting up and bringing Jean with him, tugging him just slightly up, revealing the pressure just a bit, just enough.

"Fuck, oh – fuck," Jean says, scratching almost desperately at Marco's back for purchase. "You're big."

"Too much?" Marco is stroking down his neck. Jean is shaking, unsure of what to do with himself, gasping and – and he's just so _big_ , fuck. Marco holds him there for a moment, then releases him, just enough, and this time Jean shudders at the brush of pleasure – slowly – slowly settling on it – oh. Oh god, slow like this, Jean's legs are shaking from sheer pleasure by the time he's sat on it completely, mouth slack. It is good. Fuck. 

"So good," Marco is praising him, over and over. "You're doing so good."

Jean runs one hand up into Marco's hair, grabbing at it greedily, holding onto it like a lifeline. He feels blown apart, ripped open, more exposed than he's ever felt in his life, and it's Marco there, Marco holding him together, Marco who has hair that's soft and silky, and who smells like home, Marco who loves him, and Jean feels like his mind is drunk on this, unable to process anything beyond Marco's presence. 

"Are you alright?" Marco asks, tipping back to look at Jean's face. Jean blinks at him, unable to even understand the question for a beat. 

"Marco," is all he can whine.

"Can I tell you something?" Marco says in a heated whisper. 

Jean nods, dumbly. 

"I wanted this – so bad." 

"Wha – ?"

"Slept beside you… every day… for three years," Marco groans, eyes tightly shut. "You smell so good – omegas smell so good, especially when you're in a rut, you have no idea, Jean. Sometimes I'd just lay there looking at you sleep, wanting… this…"

Jean's head is spinning. "M-Mina?"

"Love Mina. _Love_ Mina. Want Mina, but – want you, too," Marco says, he whines like this pains him. 

"Marco," Jean moans, face heating, growing hotter at this, imagining if Marco hadn't been able to resist, if he'd just rolled Jean over and mounted him during training, taking him like he wanted, marking him, parading him around for the rest to see, owned and fucked properly… He squirms on the thickness stretching him so wide, deliberately striking the place inside him that will feel it the most. He continues doing this, rutting weakly on Marco's lap, until Marco snarls and tips him back again, rocking his hips, churning deep inside him.

"Omegas are more likely to get pregnant if they come first, did you know that?" Marco tells him as he moves, pupils fat. 

Jean didn't know that. He stares up at Marco, feeling uniquely and deliciously helpless, waiting for him to fulfill the promise he just made. 

Knotted like this, it's actually the sudden move _back_ , rocking the knot _hard_ against Jean's prostate, that does it, and Marco does this deliberately, in time with the hand on Jean's dick – once, twice – fuck, fuck, _building_ \- inside – him – again – and again – 

"Come on, Jean," Marco says, patient and encouraging. "Don't you want to come for me?"

– Fuck – oh – it's working, the movements jostling – a tightly wound part – in his center – knocking it loose, out of his control, he's going to come, oh god – "oh god, Marco, _Mar_ – " He screams, arching his back, coming so hard he's blinded by it, toes curling, convulsing, washing his mind blissfully blank.

He's never come like that before. He's never experienced anything in his life like that, ever. 

He's distantly aware of Marco continuing to move, then coming, coming inside Jean. He lays there, dazed, filled and used in ways he didn't know were possible, body tingling in satisfaction he'd never known before. Marco gathers him up into his arms again, his own limbs limp and useless, still knotted together – he better, he _better_ after those promises he made, what he swore he was going to give Jean.

Marco settles them both into bed, making a series of short, huffy and pretty adorable alpha-growls. He's making a production of getting Jean wrapped up in the blanket, then carefully positioning himself between Jean and the door. Jean doesn't really understand the fuss until he realizes the scent he's putting off now – _I need you, I'm weak, I'm spent, stay with me… keep me…_

Or maybe it's something Marco would've done anyway.

They fall asleep with fingers locked together, resting over Jean's stomach.


	3. Eren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow it's been four months longer than I promised, but here we are!! There's a lot of talking in this chapter so I hope you're in the mood for that.
> 
> Also, I've been editing earlier chapters so you might want to reread. 
> 
> This part features two Marco/Jean scenes, then a short Armin/Jean scene, then two Eren/Jean scenes. ctrl+f "wildfire" if you want to skip to the eren/jean parts. 
> 
> ~ENJOY!

"Think you'll ever mate?"

"Not if I'm lucky."

Marco pouts. Jean ignores it, and continues sweeping the barn. Shadis dismissed the cadets about an hour ago, the sun is setting, the day is basically over. All that's left is chores, and then dinner. They can both feel the day winding down, and are taking their time – Marco's resting both hands, and then his chin, on the top of his broom as he watches Jean. 

"That's a little pessimistic."

" _I'm_ a little pessimistic," Jean says, annoyed with the conversation. They didn't happen before, Marco used to be fine with Jean's lack of interest in mating, but he's just started courting Mina and it's made him very happy, and he seems sad Jean isn't experiencing that happiness.

"But," Marco says. "What if the right person – "

" _What if,_ " Jean mocks, rolling his eyes. He channels his annoyance into the broom, jabbing at a collection of dirt and oats that've gathered in a hard to reach corner. "Armin Arlert found the right person, and he's too busy licking Eren's boots to remember his own name half the time. If that's what it's like to be an omega, then I hope _the right person_ for me choked to death on a potato peel a year ago."

"Jean, that's not – Armin isn't – that's – " Marco clearly wants to defend Armin, and _true love_ , and the hypothetical person Jean wished death on, but can't pick between them. It's amusing to watch. Finally, Marco shakes his head. "It's not like it would _change_ anything. It wouldn't change you."

Jean glares, mostly because _of course_ Marco would land on Jean's actual concern. "You can't know that." 

"Well, neither can you! A lot of the things people say about mating with omegas are just - " 

"Jerk off material?"

Marco tightens his lips, but otherwise keeps going. " _And_ Armin really isn't like that. Maybe if you actually got to know him you wouldn't be so worried about mating."

"I'm not worried," Jean says, bristling now. Worry is annoyingly close to _fear_ , and Jean is definitely not afraid. "I don't want a mate, and I'm not going to mate." And maybe the rest of the mating omega stories are just rumors, but Jean's seen Armin's degrading devotion to Eren – it's enough to make his skin crawl. May a titan swallow him whole before Jean shadows after any alpha like that. "And will you stop watching me do all the work?!" 

He throws a handful of hay at Marco, who ducks, laughing. "Sorry, sorry!" He sweeps it up, and they finish cleaning the barn. 

~

In-between asleep and awake, a heavy, pulsing sensation throbs through Jean's body. 

Is he in pain? No… not quite, but nearly… it's almost overwhelming, almost _distressing_ , until he works out the source. 

Marco's cock is still thick and heavy and real inside him, holding him in place, stretched and open. Jean shifts, and a sharp, disarming shiver travels through him. His breath catches for a moment, and he does it again, flexing around Marco, moaning softly. The ache has a delicious edge, pain and pleasure blurring, somehow _satisfying_.

"Fuck," he breathes, blinking open his eyes, but he doesn't understand what he's seeing for a long, disorienting moment. 

There should be multiple rows of bunks, but.. No. Despite the memory and the familiar Marco smells, this isn't the barracks. He hasn't woken up in the barracks over a year. Jean was certainly never fucked in the barracks either, never felt this open and desperate and full of Marco.

"Fuck," he repeats, processing the sensations one at a time – his skin hums, he is warm and so _full_ , and he knows, more than anything, blissfully, utterly safe. He relaxes into that sensation, his trust in Marco soothing and whole, his body quivering with this surrender. Marco's arm is over his waist, his weight is pressed against Jean's back, his regular, steady breathing against his neck. Marco's calm seeps in through Jean's skin, wrapping around him like a second blanket. 

"You alright?" 

Jean looks over his shoulder. Marco's awake, watching. 

He only realizes just how out of it he is when it takes actual concentration to process the question. "I guess."

Marco smiles. "You definitely _smell_ alright," he says, pressing his lips against Jean's neck and inhaling. 

Jean moans at the unconscious roll of Marco's hips, and realizes he's putting out the same sort of scent he did yesterday, with Eren, though that was faint compared to this. This version is strong enough to properly identify: _Yes, I feel good, I feel safe, I trust you…_

Marco seems to be reacting to it like a cat to catnip, nuzzling up and down Jean's throat. 

Jean sighs, tilting his head to allow it, feeling boneless and dazed and not quite awake. He's jolted somewhat unpleasantly when the window catches his eye: the sky still a bright, happy, early morning blue. It's only been a few hours since breakfast, then, and Jean's been unconscious _twice._ He's fucked his own hand in the past, of course, and enjoyed it, but the orgasms he's having now are knocking him off his feet, leaving him wandering in his own mind, dazed and useless, taking forever to find himself again, while Marco just keeps watch. 

His whine is a bit sharper, almost pained, and Marco's hips still abruptly. 

"Alright?" he asks again.

"I – " Jean's not sure. 

He is sore. 

There, where they connect, and muscles overworked in a way he's only ever felt from brutal exercises, or a fight. But there was no fight. His body is recovering from – from Marco Bodt. 

Marco, the first friend he ever made in training or, really, ever. Marco, who has handwriting so awful he was regularly told to rewrite his essays so their instructors could actually read them. Marco, who gets teary eyed over letters from his younger siblings, who refuses to allow different foods to touch on his plate, who has a nighttime ritual so elaborate and fussy it's laughable – ridiculous, sentimental Marco Bodt. Marco's handling, Marco's fucking, an exhausting, overwhelming pleasure that made Jean's body quiver until he was literally left _aching._

Marco slides his hand from Jean's waist, to his hip, and back again. It's a surprisingly intimate touch, something thoughtless and easy and something _friends_ do not do, Marco would've never done before and it's too much, but – 

"No, oh – " Jean says in a panic, Marco is sliding out, pulling away. "Wait, no – "

"Shh," Marco kisses the side of his neck, then adds just a bit of teeth as a distraction. The knot apparently went down a while ago, and the slide is painless, but Jean feels _abandoned_. 

"Marco," Jean sobs, though he doesn't know what he wants, really, what he's asking for, squirming aimlessly. He wants to go back to moments before, when everything was a soft, pleasant buzz. _Please, please, please, please, I need you_ his scent is begging openly – he's hard, needily so, but it also feels like his swollen, dripping cock is a wound, too sensitive to touch.

A sudden shift, the world spins, and they're chest to chest. 

Marco kisses his jaw, his ear, his eyebrow in quick pecks, and his thigh slides between Jean's, pressing up between his legs, against his sensitive, full balls, the base of his dick, and he moans deeply. Yes, this delicious pressure is exactly – what he needed – and he grips Marco's shoulders, gasping, when two of Marco's fingers slide inside him, into place, easing the emptiness that his cock left behind.

"Better?" Marco asks, but he has to already know it is. He's breathing heavily again, practically drinking the scent at Jean's throat. He's not even moving his fingers, just filling Jean, _just_ enough, a less intense stretch that his body immediately clings to, grounding him. 

Jean nods, moaning again, so soft it's almost a sigh. "B-better, yeah." 

They share a long moment of calm, though Jean's heart is wild and frenzied in his chest. Eventually Marco pulls back enough for proper eye contact, shameless, unafraid of this new connection between them, fingers shifting inside Jean. Marco's warm gaze doesn't waver and Jean's never felt this intimate with anyone in his life. This could be terrifying, if Jean allowed it. If Jean didn't breathe in, and out, carefully, and make the conscious decision to surrender rather than fight. 

More confident, he presses into the solid weight of Marco's thigh, tucked between his, and can feel the soreness melting away as his muscles slowly warm back up… from this, from Marco's closeness and careful fingers and firm weight, from the air between them, filling with Marco's scent. Jean stills as he takes it in… learning this new language between them, Marco's smell is all _content_ and _pleased_. It makes his blush deepen, to smell Marco like this, to know him in this way. 

"Want to come?" Marco asks.

Oh. Oh, _fuck_ , Jean likes that idea – Marco feels especially clever for thinking of it. He whimpers before he can stop himself, and Marco nearly growls in response, wrapping his free arm around Jean's waist, pulling him closer with firm, impressive strength, and that's what tips Jean over. 

He's coming, jerking and shuddering, clenching on Marco's fingers, riding them through the trembly, weak orgasm. 

He's hunting out Marco's mouth before he's really aware of what he's doing, moaning in relief when he finds it, and they kiss sloppily, and it's perfect, until Marco starts pulling away. 

"Hey – " 

"You're falling asleep," Marco says, unable to mask the laughter in his voice. "We can kiss more when you wake up."

Jean scowls, and bites on Marco's lip before he can move away.

"Okay, okay," Marco says, and Jean falls asleep like this, with Marco's mouth on his, doing his best to stay awake for it, his lips sluggish and weak, until he's not anymore. 

~

He's alone.

Jean knows it before even opening his eyes – Marco left.

He's gone, leaving only what's been rubbed off on Jean and the bed. There's no one else in the room. He's alone. Marco's left him. 

But that _can't_ be true, and he throws off the blanket with a shaky arm, scrambles to his hands and knees, searching the small space frantically, as though Marco could or would be hiding in a corner, out of sight. Marco's gear, his shirt, pants and boots are gone, and a maddening, uncontrollable kind of panic rises in Jean's throat. He's alone. He is naked, his skin tacky with drying come and other fluids. He can still feel the imprint of Marco's touch inside him, and Marco is _gone_. 

He's back with Mina, is Jean's first assumption. And why not? Jean grits his teeth, gripping the sheet beneath him with both hands. And isn't that exactly what Jean would prefer? There's nothing keeping them together, there are no rules here. The role of an omega is a convenience to others. Sometimes a surrogate to carry a child, sometimes an additional parent. Sometimes an additional mate. But any child Jean got pregnant with would be Marco and Mina's first, then Jean's, as far as they agree. 

Marco and Mina's coupling first, _then_ Jean – as far as they agree. 

Obviously Marco has decided it goes as far as plugging Jean up, and not a step further. Leaving Jean to deal with whatever comes next.

There's a more rational part of his mind trying to get his attention, pointing out the wildly ridiculous assumptions and inconsistencies, but it's weak compared to the rest of him, driven by panic and fear, leaving him wild eyed, pushed into the corner by the time the door opens.

It's Marco, obviously.

The smile on his face falls once he registers Jean's expression, the panicked scent that's filled the room.

"You left."

"You were sleeping," Marco says. "I thought you'd be hungry – "

"You _left_ ," Jean repeats, hissing it. 

"And now I'm back," Marco says, voice firm but pointedly calm. 

Oddly, he hears his mother's tsking voice in his head, _don't work yourself up, Jeanbo!_ It finally quiets the pathetic panic. Marco is back. Marco is fine, and Jean is fine. Everything is fine. 

Jean settles down, eying the tray he's just noticed in Marco's hands, heavy with food. He sets it on the side table, grabs two bowls.

"You missed breakfast," Marco says, holding out the stew like a peace offering. 

"… Thanks," Jean says, taking it somewhat hesitantly. 

What was _that_? 

What _was_ that?? Jean's lost his composure in the past, shouted and lashed out in fear and anger, but nothing like _that_. Is this what it's like to be an omega? Is this how he'll be, forever??

His stomach is still queasy from the extreme fear, but hunger is there as well, and refuses to be ignored. Jean doesn't bother with a spoon, drinking from the bowl then dipping a roll in the stew, chewing furiously. 

"So what happens now?" Jean asks after a few large bites. He's still on edge, and his tone is sharp and prickly.

"I –" Marco blushes. 

Jean realizes he's still naked, and Marco is pointedly not looking below his shoulders. 

Marco is an alpha, and Jean is an omega. Jean did not have to deal with the full consequence of that before today, not like this. Even Marco's politely averted gaze is a sign of interest, one that his body recognizes and is excited by – hopeful, trying to prepare itself for this friendly and virile alpha's attentions. Thankfully, this morning provided enough experience for Jean to brutally squash the deceptive thrill before it can get out of control, jerking the blanket over to cover his lap. 

"We can do whatever you want," Marco is saying. "But I have to report to duty in – "

" _No_. What happens," Jean forces out, between his teeth, hating the sound of his questions even in his own head – What happens if it worked, and Jean carries Marco's child? What if it _doesn't_? What about tomorrow, a year from now? Two? "With you and me."

" _Oh_ ," Marco eyes dart away from Jean with uncharacteristic cowardice. "That's not something we have to decide right now, right?" 

"You're scared," Jean accuses. 

"Of course I am, Jean," Marco says, unashamed. "You're important to me and – I love you," he says this carefully, slowly, clearly referring to the love already known and acknowledged between them, the friendship love, the unique bond they've had for years. "I don't want to ruin that."

"I thought you _loved_ Mina," Jean sneers, being purposefully difficult. 

"Jean – "

"You love Mina, but want to fuck your omega bunk mate."

Marco stiffens slightly, blinking in surprise. 

Jean glares, not backing down, waiting for Marco to explain himself, and the things he said in the heat of the moment that can't be unheard. 

Again, he's pretty sure he's being unreasonable – he knows full well why Marco never expressed any interest during training, and it was not out of disrespect or lack of affection. It was a nice idea, but if Jean had actually woken up in his bunk to find Marco on top of him, he would've jumped out of his very skin, and probably thrown Marco out of the bunk. Marco knew that. Marco has always put Jean's feelings first. Jean doesn't care. He wants to throw it all at Marco's feet, every screaming, furious thought in his head, have Marco sort it out for him, untangle it and make sense of it.

Annoyingly, that seems to be exactly what Marco sets out to do, making a point of remaining calm as he speaks, though his jaw flexes. 

"This is happening really fast," he says. "And it isn't fair that you have to go through it, but I just don't think we have to decide everything now – "

"Yeah. Let's wait until I'm shitting out a baby to talk about it." 

"Okay. What do you want to happen? Now? With you and me?"

"I want to know what _you_ want," Jean immediately, childishly, counters. 

Marco sighs deeply, tipping his head back to look up at the ceiling. This must be it, the end of Marco's patience, and Jean feels some regret, but the momentum of his emotions blows him easily past that – if Marco gets annoyed, good. _Good_. At least Jean won't be experiencing it alone. He waits, but when Marco opens his eyes to look at him again, he is not annoyed at all. It's somber and genuine. 

"I want… to be… whatever you need from me," Marco says. "But I don't know what that is, and I don't think you do, either. You didn't even want a _relationship_ yesterday, Jean. Let alone any – a _kid_. I know having answers would make this easier but – I think we both need time to get them." 

Jean scowls at the bowl in his hands. He'd forgotten he was holding it. 

"Well."

"But if all you need is someone's head to bite off in the meantime," Marco gives a wan smile. "I can be that."

"Captain Levi is the one who told me what was happening," Jean mutters, tipping the bowl back and forth in his hand, watching the meaty sludge slide from one side to the other. "And I couldn't exactly take it out on him." He shrugs one shoulder. Marco's the first viable target Jean's had in this nightmare. "So."

"You're handling this well, Jean," Marco says, accepting the unspoken apology. "Better than a lot of people would."

Jean nods in thanks, tightly – though kind, Marco is very careful and very sincere about giving praise. He means it when he says it, and it is comforting, to know that Marco is impressed rather than pitying or disgusted or anything else. That his opinion of Jean hasn't changed. He feels some tight knot of anxiety he hadn't fully been aware of loosen in his chest.

"It'll take a while to get used to that," Marco laughs, rubbing at his nose. 

"What?"

"When you're upset," Marco says. "It's intense. The smell. I've never smelled Armin like that before."

Jean stares. He'd been too worked up to notice, but now it is obvious, the smell – and, humiliatingly, it's a scent of fear rather than anger. _Don't leave again, I need you, don't leave, don't leave me_. 

Mortified, he groans, flopping back on to the bed.

"It's probably stronger because of the heat," Marco says, kindly. 

Jean just groans again – if _not_? This is acceptable for _now_ , Jean can be embarrassing and transparent in front of Marco, but he's not going to be able to tolerate this with anyone else. Sasha, Connie, _Eren??_ Mikasa? Their commanding officers?? Definitely not. 

"Hey." Marco pokes Jean in the leg, and he scowls, lifting his head to see it's with a cup of pudding. The offering mollifies Jean somewhat, enough to sit back up. "It'll all blow over soon."

"Will it? Cause as far as I know, once this part's over, I'm going to be carrying your kid for nine months," Jean says. 

"Ah," Marco says, huffing out a strained, self deprecating little laugh. "True." 

Jean thinks he's embarrassed Marco, made him uncomfortable, bashful, as he has so many times in the past, but that is wrong. Marco averting his gaze, yes, but he's sitting with his back straight, strict and stiff, and his voice had been quite a bit deeper than he's used to. His dares a quick glance down to Jean's stomach, pupils growing fat with interest, before forcing himself to look away. 

Oh.

"Well," Jean says, feeling his own face heat. 

The instincts this time are a flood – immense, steady and strong and they will not be squashed back down – Jean tries, but by the time he's braced pulled himself free of the initial, breathtaking wave, it's hard for him to figure out why he'd _want_ to. 

Why would he want to cling to anger and pride, when _Marco_ is there? It's a breathless rush of excitement, this wonderful thing that it feels like he's been overlooking, somehow; that Marco has deep brown eyes and solid shoulders and wide, strong hands… _kind, strong, handsome, young, **Marco**_ … 

"Okay, I should – " Marco gets up, and takes Jean's half finished dessert from his slack hands, stacking it on the tray. "I'll take these back down – "

"Marco," Jean says watching him move. 

"I just – I know we agreed, but – you got – so freaked out, we should – I don't know …"

"Marco."

He's starting to recognize the pattern – it doesn't _start_ with wanting sex, really, he doesn't want Marco _inside him_. He would just like to be close, and smell, and kiss, and feel Marco against him, that's all. And – and if Marco wanted to hold him, so they were very, _very_ close, that would be nice. It almost feels like he could be happy with just that, but he knows it's only going to escalate once he does get closeness and kisses and touches. _I like you, touch me, stay close..._

"Are you sure? " Marco asks. 

Jean climbs off the bed and steps into Marco's space. He's _not_ sure, but he needs Marco now, and knows Marco will meet that need. When it's over he might freak out again, and knows Marco will be there to put him back together, like he did just now. 

"Only... if you're sure," Marco is staring at Jean's lips, his words a hot exhale against them as Jean moves in closer, asking for the kiss as he takes it. 

Jean closes his eyes, pushing into it, moaning into it, until they part with a soft, wet noise. Marco stares at him critically, licking his lips, then his hands slide down, gripping his thighs, and he lifts Jean. Jean moans into Marco's mouth, aroused further by the strength this takes, how Marco carries him to the bed with ease. He wraps his arms around Marco's shoulders, digs his fingers into his hair as he moans into Marco's mouth. 

Marco climbs onto the bed on his knees, still holding Jean against him. He doesn't seem to want to let Jean go, reluctant when he finally sets Jean's weight against the mattress, then immediately pressing hard between Jean's legs. Marco's cock is mostly soft, but is still thick, still warm and Jean can feel it with the lewd, demanding roll of his hips. Marco undoes his pants with one hand, quick and nimble, just enough to pull himself out.

"Ah," Jean hisses out, excited, arching his body in a way he's learned means _sex_ , the way he braced and tensed his body when Marco had been thrusting inside him before. It's going to happen again. Jean moans at the thought, at the feel of Marco's dick, growing harder and fatter against his skin.

It's easy, the stretch of his body for Marco, and Jean decides he always wants to be this way, open and ready to be used by Marco. He pushes inside, and droops in satisfaction, moaning mindlessly against the sheet beside Jean's head, taking a moment to brace himself before rocking his hips, fucking him slow and deep and with steadily increasing strength. 

"Come – come in me," Jean says, wrapping his legs tight around Marco's hips. He'll fight if he tries to pull out. Marco moans, his large hands on Jean's hips, sliding toward the back for a better grip, pressing Jean impossibly closer.

"Can't knot again that fast," Marco tells him, looking absolutely heartbroken about it.

"Don – don't care, just – _ah_ – " Jean moans. Marco is close, Jean can tell by the insistent snapping of his hips, in and out with real intent, real purpose, wanting to deposit what he has in Jean. The idea is so arousing that Jean comes just a beat after feeling Marco finish inside him, spraying up against their stomachs – he doesn't have much left, and Marco didn't manage a knot, but it was still a very satisfying orgasm, like an especially great stretch, pulling his body to its limit, making his muscles quiver from the effort, but just for a moment, before dropping, spent, against the mattress.

"Thanks," Jean says once he's got his breath, feeling dopey and satisfied. 

"Thank _you_ ," Marco says back, smiling, and they kiss, deep and sloppy, as long as they can before Jean falls back asleep with a sigh and pleased smile, nestled in Marco's arms. The sense of contentment and comfort is so complete, he can't figure out why he was ever annoyed with the heat at all. 

~

" -but you weren't answering the door."

"What is it?"

The conversation is whispered, only just loud enough to pull Jean from sleep – he's not awake, really, but he understands someone is there. He can also tell instinctively that they are not a threat but the presence is _wrong wrong wrong wrong_ , and he knows Marco must feel the same from the way he's tightened his form all around Jean.

"Your break is over. They want you to report back before the end of the hour."

Jean whines, and feels Marco's kiss on his brow, shhing and comforting, murmuring an apology. Jean would like to reject it, shove him away, to argue, but this is like no sleep he's had before. It's like he's being literally held down, and he can't keep up the fight for long. He clings to Marco's shoulders, but he can't keep that up long, either. Soon, he is asleep.

~

It was Armin at the door.

Jean knows this because Armin is still there when he wakes up. He glares shortly, then rolls over, showing his back to the other omega.

"What time is it?" 

"Middle of the afternoon," Armin says. A long beat. When Armin speaks again, it's strained, hopeful politeness. "So… this is your first heat?"

They both know the answer to that, and Jean is annoyed with him for pretending as though the rumors haven't spread across the entirety of headquarters by now. Possibly even into the interior – one of those strange Survey Corps omegas experiencing some freakish heat …! it's definitely worthy of pitying, mocking gossip. Exhaustion is the only thing keeping Jean from real anger. All he can manage is a scowl. 

"What are you doing here?"

"Marco asked me to stay," Armin says. "He's reporting back to duty – "

"I heard," Jean says. He wants to know why _Armin_ , at all, to start with.

"And they thought another omega would be the best to check up on you two," Armin says. "Alphas can get aggressive – "

"You don't fucking say."

Armin's lips press together. "Marco asked me to stay," he repeats. "Because he said you needed the company. I can leave."

"Go ahead," Jean says. He can't believe the betrayal – both from Marco, sharing that with Armin, and from his own body, actually finding some measure of comfort from Armin's presence. As much as he dislikes it, he knows if he'd woken alone, he would've been gripped by the same panic as before.

This is not Armin's fault, not by any stretch of the imagination. It's not Armin's fault that Marco asked him to stay, or that Jean stole Bert's breakfast roll. It's not Armin's fault that Jean has been viewing him as the worst case, the doom scenario, the epitome of what he would never, ever allow himself to become. It's not Armin's fault that Jean's ended up even _worse_. It's not Armin's fault that Jean's an omega or that he himself is an omega, or that Armin's so well suited for it, while Jean is a walking joke.

But all those things are still true and he'd prefer the company of just about anyone to _Armin_. 

"You're really going to have to work on controlling your emotions," Armin says, scrunching his nose, and Jean nearly chokes on the indignity. 

"This from the omega who cried the entire first week of training?? You really think you'd do any better??"

"I didn't – I'm sorry, it was just surprising," Armin says. The apology is sincere. Ish. "So, ah…" he waffles a bit, while Jean glares. " _Is_ it a fertile heat?"

Jean scowls for a beat then nods, shortly. He's aware of what he's putting out, and this time it is not fear – it's true anger, a warning to _keep away, back off, do not touch me_. It is not pleasant. If Armin wasn't in the room he'd probably wrinkle his own nose. 

"I thought so. I've been learning more about them all morning." Bold as you please, Armin ignores Jean's warnings and takes a seat on the bed. Startled, Jean flails, pulling closer to the wall and needlessly yanks the blanket tighter, hotly and uncomfortably aware of his nudity. "I haven't seen any firsthand before, but I've read about them – the symptoms and causes – "

"What, in your books?" Jean says. 

"Yes," Armin says, unashamed. He is the only person Jean's met, outside of Marco, who will admit to the taboo practice of book reading, and he's so calm about it as he does. "The only fertile heats anyone has written about happen in Quinta."

"Great," Jean grimaces. Quinta is only a step above the underground. It's a district on the outskirts, isolated by heavy woods and strange, uncivilized customs, far worse than the mountain villages. This isn't going to be good. 

"They have a whole ceremony when an omega comes of age," Armin says, then ticks it off as he goes, "alphas preform a show of strength, a show of virility and a show of safety, which is similar to what happened to you, I think. Reiner's attack was a show of strength, then the commander's – virility, and Eren's show of safety. If any one of those three things hadn't happened then you'd just be in a normal heat – " Armin does that thing, that _omega thing_ , where he drops all confidence after being absolutely certain he was right. "I think, anyway. But Quinta's small. They just want each fertile heat to result in as many children with as many alphas as possible. It's not something other districts would be interested in, though in the interior they have stories about – " 

"Wait – _as many_?" Jean repeats, before he loses Armin down whatever path he's meandering toward. 

"As many…?" 

" _As many alphas??_ " 

"Ah – " Armin seems flustered. "A fertile heat is unique because – well, it's – a chance for any partner to impregnate you. Multiple partners, multiple sires of a litter. Technically this isn't the only time – "

"I heard it the first time Arlert!" Jean shouts, resisting the urge to knock him off the side of the bed with the pillow, if only to shut him up. "How many times do I have to – " he can't bring himself to say it. A _litter??_ Captain Levi used the term before but Jean didn't know he meant – an actual _litter_. "How many before this thing ends?!"

"A fertile heat is a window of time, about two weeks. It can't end until the cycle plays out. It doesn't matter when you, ah. Get pregnant," Armin says. He winces as he says it, fiddling awkwardly with one of the belts from his gear. "But as long as you're pregnant at all, it will end when the cycle finishes. Sorry."

The apology is tacked on, and awkward, but sincere. There's sympathy in his scent, as well.

Maybe he's been putting it out from the start, but it's only now that Jean's caught wind of it – Armin's scent is barely there at all. A faint, delicate wisp in the room, one that can't compete with Marco's heavier, lingering pheromones. It's a _tart_ scent, like a fresh bite from an apple. Clean and fresh. There's another note that Jean can't quite make out, something floral, maybe. It's pleasant, and Jean wouldn't mind more of it… it doesn't hurt that it's carrying soothing, sincere empathy for what Jean is going through, like a friendly touch against the back of his head – again, Jean is reminded of his mother, resting his head against her lap every time he was so sure his life was ending as a child. 

Except now it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say it is.

Jean hitches his shoulders up, leaning closer against the wall. 

_Multiple fucking pregnancies._

He had appreciated the stakes as he had known them before, that he was going to get pregnant, but he feels trapped in a new way, caught in a looping, impossible to escape cycle. He knows being alone will drive him to panic - knows being around a friendly presence will eventually have him acting like a cat, rubbing up against their leg for scraps. He won't be able to resist sex - sex will lead to babies. His only hope is to keep to himself. But he can't keep to himself. 

" _Fuck,_ " he bites out, hands in his own hair. 

"Sorry," Armin says again, though this time it's slightly pained. 

Jean looks again at Armin, closer this time – his lips are pressed together, hands in neat fists in his lap, squirming in tight little twitches.

"What?" Jean asks, frowning. 

"It's just... omegas aren't usually influenced by pheromones, not like alphas and betas are," Armin says. "This is the first time... I wasn't expecting it to be this strong." 

His eyes are rooted on the sheet in front of him, and a blush slowly warms his cheeks. 

Lilies.

That's what he smells like, lilies and apples. 

Jean's frown softens, and he considers. Armin is smart. He's approachable, and pleasant, and he smells quite nice – and so _smart_. Jean remembers the resentment whenever Armin outperformed him, and everyone, in class. How he'd scoff and dismiss Armin as weak and pathetic, but he can't find that resentment today. It's nice, in fact, to appreciate how brilliant, and pretty, Armin is… 

It's almost a relief, the fog that fills Jean's mind, relaxing him, problems loosening from his grip, and after another beat, he stops resisting at all. They drift off, growing distant and unimportant, taking all the unpleasant tension in his gut with them. 

"I should…"

"No. You can't," Jean says, eyes narrowed in annoyance. Armin can't _leave_ , Jean's only _just_ gotten a clear breath of his smell!

"No, I can't," Armin agrees in a murmur. He's locked on Jean with keen, hot interest, like Levi, and like Mina, and like the cadets in the hall. Like Marco. He crosses the distance between them in a similar sort of trance. Jean loosens for him, parts his legs and allows Armin between them as he leans in closer. 

Armin is soft – and small, and is as different from kissing Marco as Jean could get. Even Mina had a sort of firmness that Jean pushed against, but Armin is permissive and soft in every respect. Jean's learned kisses as a kind of push and pull, give and take, but he finds himself growing gentler, welcoming and patient. It works – Armin moves in, taking more, a sweet and giving kisser. He brushes his thumb against the apple of Jean's cheek, then slides his hand down to his neck, soothing petting as they explore each other. 

"Smell like apples," Jean sighs into Armin's mouth.

Armin pulls away, and Jean opens his eyes to see Armin's smile, unguarded and happy, lighting up his usually solemn face. "You smell good, too," he says. He wrinkles his nose again, smile growing rueful. "You've always smelled good, I was... kind of jealous."

Jean blinks in surprise, unaware that he'd occupied any part of Armin's mind, ever, at all. Armin laughs quietly, leaning forward to kiss again. 

It's easy to do this with Armin, it's pleasing and undemanding, no tension as it waxes and wanes naturally. Jean wonders if this is because Armin is an omega, if kissing Captain Levi would feel similar, but the concept is so foreign he can't help the huff of laughter against Armin's mouth. Though, honestly, he would've said the same thing about Armin not an hour ago, and here he is, falling into it, escaping into it for as long as he'll be allowed… 

~

Jean smells cedar moments before the door opens. 

It's a crisp, wild scent, so enticing that he groans against Armin's lips. It's the smell of sharp, popping firewood, and it reminds Jean of... of something reckless, impulsive, of sneaking out his bedroom window as a child, exploring the nearly endless forest by moonlight… The thrill of climbing as high as he could up the tallest tree he could find, one more branch, and then one more branch, until he was sure he'd gone higher than anyone had ever been, dizzying accomplishment and fear and thrill. Falling asleep in an open field, breathing in the fresh, wild forest air. Breathless freedom. 

Jean grips Armin tighter, wanting it, wanting that taste, but he can't find it in Armin, and he moans in frustration. 

Armin licks his lips, breaking away with glazed eyes, and Jean knows he smells it, too, the wildfire that's approaching. 

The door opens.

It's Eren, and he stands there, blinking, expression growing slack as he takes in the scene. 

"Oh my god."

"Eren," Armin pants, and Eren shakes his head clear, almost falling over himself to get to the bed, throwing the door shut behind him.

"You were – I was looking for you, and – Marco said – " 

They'll never know what Marco said, because once Eren gets his hands on Armin, he's pressing his face against his neck. He inhales, almost violently, then goes up to his mouth for a kiss, hand fisted roughly in Armin's hair. " _Armin_." 

His voice is a growl; lustful, wild, _alpha_. Jean _knows_ this alpha, and it's an alpha making sex noises, intimate, pleased noises. 

Jean's never seen or heard Eren like this, and he immediately tunnels in on it, fascinated, the rest of the world dimming away, unimportant and boring compared to Eren's heaving chest and bright, focused eyes, strong hands and coiled, restless energy. 

He squirms, the slow, easy atmosphere from Armin quickly escalating, arousal burning hot and sudden in Jean's gut, leaving him dazed, eyes wide. Jean's breath catches, feeling his dick grow thicker, erect and wanting between his legs at an alarming speed, so quick it feels divorced from his body, like something he's only observing, and growing _slick_ behind that. 

Everything – _everything_ about Eren is sending a tingling, delicious trail of need dancing across the surface of Jean's very mind, effortlessly hitting each of Jean's buttons _just so_ as it does. _You, you, you, **you** ,_ Jean's body pulses out. _I want **you**._

Eren freezes. He lifts his head from Armin, inhaling. 

"Jean," he says, and Jean swallows, mouth drying out as their eyes catch. He tries to stop the whine, but that only makes it sound breathy, and wanting. 

The only warning is a tickle against his neck. 

Armin, who still exists and is seated between his legs, brushes dry lips against his shoulder before he _bites_

"Ah – _fuck_ – " Jean sobs out, arching his back as his body quivers beyond his control, Armin's teeth against his neck tapping into some deeply rooted trigger, leaving him blind and breathless, thoughts whiting out completely. He drops back uselessly against the mattress when Armin pulls away. 

"What was that??" Eren is asking. "What'd you do? Is he okay?"

"That's – I'm sorry," Armin says, sounding breathless himself. "That's how omegas and betas present the omega to their alpha. It's instinctive. I'm sorry, Jean, I wasn't – I wasn't thinking. You just – smelled so good, it seemed like a good idea..."

They keep talking, but it's a distant, unimportant buzz as Jean scrunches his face, gasping for air. 

Fuck. 

This isn't like Mina's bite. Jean isn't launched higher, he isn't blissfully mindless, cock hungry and stupid. 

He – he feels like he's suffocating on Eren's scent.

It's too strong, he's breathing it in even as he gasps for air, trying to recover from it. He's overwhelmed, almost nauseous from the extreme arousal, and the generous amount of slick leaking out of him, spreading from between his legs to his thighs – he's hyper-aware of his tingling skin and sensitive, aching hole, it feels like it's throbbing, and it's just _too much_. 

He's barely aware of Armin standing, leaving the room, still trying to make sense of his own goddamn body long moments later, when Eren's hand touches his shoulder – sliding toward his neck. 

Jean jerks away in a sudden, panicked scramble, ( _"Jean, what – "_ ) pressing against the wall, though there's really no escape there. 

Eren quickly withdraws, concerned confusion shadowing the intent in his face. "Sorry, I thought – you seemed like you wanted…" Eren trails off, which is fine because Jean wasn't really listening, too busy tracking Eren's movements, like he would any threat. He's on edge and unable to make sense of his own conflicting instincts. 

This isn't how it went with Marco. 

But this isn't Marco. Jean's trust in Marco was so complete that, at the time, he was hardly even aware of how much he was giving up to him. It was painless. It's only seeing Eren with that same power over him that he realizes how terrifying it actually is, what a risk it is, and he feels crushed by the full weight of it. The unfocused mess his mind is only making it worse, harder to carry, harder to process beyond the loudest, most base instincts Eren wakes up in him. 

It's all too fast for him to keep up with, he feels dizzy and only _now_ remembering what Armin told him, the danger of giving into these instincts, but he still _wants_ , he wants so _badly_ , and he can smell Eren's answering interest, how he's craving Jean… 

"Fuck," Jean hisses out, and it's strained, pained.

He's horrified to feel his eyes start to sting, and he squeezes them shut, grinding the heels of his hands into them, wishing he could vanish from the room – but that wouldn't do any good. Wishing to somehow rip himself free of this ridiculous body. 

"… Jean?" Eren says. "Do- do you want me to leave?"

"It's a little late for that," Jean hisses out. 

"If I left it would be easier," Eren says, like he's reluctant to admit it. 

Jean finally glances up. Despite his words, Eren looks like he's just barely holding himself from launching across the bed. It's concern lining his face though, like he wants to soothe Jean rather than fuck him, like yesterday, in the lookout post.

The blanket has fallen away in all the activity, laying uselessly over Jean's leg. Jean's cock is hard, pointing up toward his stomach, and his skin glistens from the extreme amount of wetness, his body preparing itself for what Eren's scent is promising.

The order to leave sits on Jean's tongue, but he can't bring himself to say it. Tension builds between them as they watch one another, silently, effectively stuck. Unable to move forward, unable to look away. Jean knows it's his own scent that's making it difficult for Eren to back off despite his best intentions, desperate; _**you** , I want you, please, please…_

Eren is trying, so hard, squirming only slightly as the sheer _want_ builds in the long silence, but doesn't budge. 

"Get off the bed," Jean finally decides, voice surprisingly firm, jerking his chin as he does.

There's a disappointed, wobbly little whine that reminds Jean of a scolded dog, but Eren immediately does as asked, sliding backward until his feet touch the ground. 

Jean huffs out once through his nose, unable to believe at how immediate and strong the reaction is in him. 

"Get – get on your knees," Jean says, crawling after him, toward the edge. 

Eren pauses for a moment, disappointment fading as he processes that. His eyes grow darker, more intense as he slowly, deliberately, moves to his knees. 

" _Beg_ ," Jean says, excitement making his voice breathy, trembly. 

It's not just that it's Eren – it's that everything up to this point has been jerking him around, out of his control. Well intentioned and unavoidable, leaving Jean to only comply, or tantrum like a child. 

But it doesn't hurt that it's Eren. 

"… I- I could smell you, this morning, in the hall, and I wanted – I wanted to touch you then," Eren says, licking his lips. "And I wanted it all day, I just wanted to touch you, Jean. I could make you feel – so, so good, Jean… _please_."

Jean swallows, settling back, and sticks his leg out over the bed, foot bobbing in front of Eren's face. He raises an eyebrow. He's composed himself enough to look the part, but knows his needy scent is giving him away. 

Eren plays along. 

He kisses Jean's foot, inhaling, moaning like he likes what he finds there. He presses his teeth against the thin, delicate skin over the bone of his ankle, and Jean shivers, surprised at how intimate this feels, how frail his ankle feels, cradled in Eren's hands. 

Eren licks, a little higher, then a little higher, up Jean's leg, biting properly on the meaty part of his calf, and Jean moans. Not from the sensation as much as Eren's obvious craving, his want, his excitement in how he grips Jean's leg with both hands, licking worshipfully up to his knee. 

From there Eren starts going higher, starts up Jean's thigh. 

Jean sets his free foot on Eren's shoulder, pushing, keeping him in place. Eren fights for just a second, then complies, moving back down to worship Jean's ankle. He grips the foot still sitting on his shoulder like he'd like to take a bite of that too, pressing his thumb against the delicate, sensitive tendon, humming against it as though it's actually delicious, like he can't get enough of Jean. 

Jean makes a strange sound then, strangled and huffy, squirming in place, impatient, before he remembers he doesn't have to be patient, at all. 

"O-okay," Jean says, reaching down for Eren, encouraging him up. "Okay, now."

It takes Eren a beat to figure out what Jean's asking, but it's immediate once he does. 

He surges up, forcing Jean onto his back on the bed, bending him in half as he starts biting at his jaw, his neck, kiss dizzying in its intensity, all _teeth_ and _want_. Eren's cradling Jean's head with both hands, moving Jean where he'd like him, at the easiest angles to explore his mouth, a thorough, greedy kiss. 

Jean's actually winded by the time Eren releases him, feels like his eyes are about to cross. 

Eren kneels over his body, hands hovering, like he can't decide where he wants to start. He eventually settles them on Jean's waist. "What do you want? Anything – anything's good…" 

"I'm sore," Jean says, tilting his chin. He's still testing Eren, he knows he is, though he doesn't know what exactly he expects Eren to do.

To nearly fold Jean in half, grab his ass greedily with both hands, spread his cheeks wide for his tongue to lick up Jean's hole, wasn't it.

"Eren!" Jean squawks, feeling tripped up by his own long limbs, one knee tucked up against his chest, the other leg thrown over Eren's shoulder, blocking him from view as Eren explores his poor hole, which really is sore, tender and puffy from Marco's fucking.

"Oh," Eren breathes against it, and Jean squirms, panting. "You're so open, Jean. Wow." He licks, a wide, greedy stripe, then, gently, forces its way in. 

"Wha – _ah_ – " Jean cries, trying to make sense of what's happening. 

Eren's tongue is thick and long and _inside him_ , working like mad and Jean's hips move in a tight, desperate circle, head thrown back. It's – _good_ , it's _good_ , but it's so strange, a slowly stoking touch, building pleasure at a tortuous pace. Jean whines, wanting _more_ , and tries to encourage this, but his squirming is more of a hindrance than help, sending him wiggling aimlessly. Eren _snarls_ , gripping Jean's thighs, yanking him closer, pinning him to the bed, to his tongue. 

Jean gasps, delirious and disbelieving at this disgusting thing, only Eren - _only Eren_ would come up with something so animalistic and feral, and of course make it feel so good Jean can't help wailing up at the ceiling. He goes limp, letting Eren do what he wants. But soon he's working his hips again, encouraging the wet, probing tongue deep in his ass, unable to stop. 

He whines with heartbroken disappointment when Eren pulls out. 

"Taste so fucking good," Eren says, looming over Jean, wiping at his chin. "Fuck, Jean." 

"Don't stop," Jean says, closer to begging than he'd like to admit, shoving at Eren's shoulder, encouraging him to roll over, on his back. "Keep going with- with your tongue."

He's still got enough shame to blush as he asks for it, that disgusting thing that feels so good, but not enough to stop from settling on Eren's face, gripping his own cock. With a snarl, Eren bats his hand away, jerking him with one hand, the other gripping his ass hard, digging his nails in as he licks up Jean's slick, devouring him. 

Jean ends up leaning forward, gripping the sheet above Eren's head, moving his hips in desperate circles, "Fuck, Eren, fuck, _fuck_." 

"Always wanted to get between your thighs like this," Eren says, rubbing against Jean's hole with his calloused fingers as he rests his mouth for a moment, moving up slightly to the space between Jean's balls and entrance, a sensitive and frustrating area to have stimulated like this. Jean grinds his hips down hopefully, and Eren rewards him with firm and teasing strokes of his fingers. "Knew it'd be good, fuck. You sound so cute, Jean." 

Jean cries out wordlessly, shaking his head, and Eren plunges his tongue back in. It's as though Jean forgot how amazing it feels, the sudden return has him bending his back, arching obscenely, working up into Eren's still stroking fist. He's blindsided by his orgasm, snapping all at once, and Eren works him through it, milking his cock with quick, experienced strokes, until Jean's about to fall over, barely keeping himself upright. 

"Eren," he sobs, arms shaking terribly. Eren's still working his tongue away inside him, still pressing up against that bundle of overworked, tender nerves. His pants become whines, desperate and begging. "Eren, sto – _Eren!_ " 

He manages to yank his hips up, free them from Eren's grip, rolling to the side. 

"Sorry," Eren pants out, wiping at his jaw again. 

Jean just shakes his head, feeling spent and pleasured and utterly tapped out, hiding his face in his arm, against the mattress. 

Eren shifts closer, and it's an instinctive thing, when his eyes move to the bite on Jean's neck. Jean drops his shoulder with a permissive whine, tipping his head aside to allow the alpha access. _Yes, you can look, you can touch, you have me…_

"Oh," Eren's voice is shaking with excitement. Slowly, like he's waiting to be told to stop, Eren bends closer to it, clearly fascinated, entranced. Once he gets there he growls, low, rumbling in his throat, tucking his head against Jean's neck, against Armin's bite. 

The growl is familiar, he knows Eren's voice, but it is dangerous, and intimidating, and it's hot against his neck. It feels like getting mauled by a wild animal, and Eren's thick, coarse hair feels a bit like a pelt as he digs his fingers into it. Jean shudders, mouth open in a silent, unvoiced moan. 

Eventually Eren's interest turns to soothing licks, nuzzling, and Jean finds himself dozing lightly under the sensation, and from there it's an easy, comfortable drop into sleep.

~ 

Eren washed out his mouth. 

This is good, because as soon as Jean wakes, he presses his lips against the first patch of Eren's skin he can find: the tip of his jaw, then works his way toward his mouth.

There's a notable change of energy – Eren is far calmer, sedated, eyes half lidded. Jean discovers that a mellowed Eren's kiss is just as thorough, just as greedy, just a bit slower about wanting Jean's entire mouth. Jean can taste hints of the food Marco left behind in Eren's mouth, the pudding and the stew. For some reason, he finds this hilarious, and Jean has to break the kiss because of his wide, amused smirk. 

"Enjoy your snack?"

"Mmhm. Enjoy your nap?"

Jean narrows his eyes, unsure if this is a tease or not, a jab at Jean doing something particularly omega-like and weak. It doesn't seem to fit how Eren's been acting so far about the whole thing, so Jean gives him the benefit of the doubt, and ignores the question completely, shifting a bit to the right and – 

"Jesus, Eren," Jean gasps.

Eren is pressed against him, shoulder to ankle, and it's only now that he feels Eren's impressive hardness, still inside Eren's pants. It's only now Jean realizes Eren is still wearing his pants at all. He is obviously aching with how fat his cock has become, probably has been since he opened the door and found Jean and Armin together. Jean finds himself reluctantly impressed by this, by Eren's self control, and the thing itself, the firmness and size of the cock straining against Eren's pants. 

"S'alright, I can just keep making you come," Eren says, sounding drugged, like he's really hoping that's what Jean will ask for. "Smells so good – omegas smell so good when they come," Eren says. There's a pause, one that makes it clear Eren knows exactly what he's saying. It's a warning, question and offer in one: "Pregnant omegas, too. I've heard."

A beat.

Jean considers Eren's shoulder, the most prominent thing in his line of vision. His skin is smooth, unscarred, unmarked, healthy. Jean is familiar with his scent, his reckless bravery and furious kindness and the unreasonable heat of his body. 

Now, he's familiar with Eren's tongue. He's familiar with Eren as an alpha, how he backed away without question when Jean told him to… 

There's a moment of clear, unquestionable realization – Jean is not afraid whatsoever. Eren could rest his blade against Jean's throat and he'd still be unafraid. It releases the last of his reservations, the things he hadn't even been aware he was holding back, and hot, sharp arousal burns from his chest down to his loins. 

"Oh," Eren moans, smelling it, gripping Jean tighter, and his strength only makes Jean feel safer, profoundly safe, and pleasured, and wants Eren to touch him more – anything Eren wants, he's excited for it.

"No, I want it."

It takes Eren a moment to cotton on. "You – want my dick?"

"Yeah, yeah – fuck – " he wants Eren to fuck him. The excitement builds quickly: He can trust Eren, and Eren is strong, and Eren would – Eren would _destroy_ any threat, wouldn't he? Jean remembers back in Trost, Eren's rage as he stomped the titans that had hurt his friends, the pure, powerful fury there, and it had scared him at the time, but he knows, now, that wildness, and he wants it to knot him. He wants to see it, Eren's cock, the thing that makes pregnant omegas, that please Eren to smell.

Eren gets up onto his knees, yanking off his shirt, and his pants, sighing in relief as he frees himself, throwing them off the side of the bed. 

Jean bites his lip, getting a good, proper look. His dick is different from Marco's. It's fatter, and – Jean snorts out a laugh.

"It looks angry," Jean says, grinning wide up at Eren.

"Shut up," Eren says, but he's smiling back. 

"It's just like you," Jean laughs, and Eren shoves him back against the mattress. 

Eren usually wins when they fight. It's not because Eren is necessarily _better_ ; Eren can just tap into that manic part of himself easier – the thing that most people only reach when it's life or death, a sort of frenzied madness. It's hard to compete against that. 

But this is very different from their past fights – this is not a fight at all, in fact. This is wrestling, somewhere between roughhousing and flirting, showing off for one another as they grind, testing their strength, rubbing and flexing. The bed bounces in protest as they flip one another, Eren's eyes bright and giddy in the struggle, clearly loving the game. It's so charming that Jean finds himself surrendering when he still has quite a bit of fight left in him, allowing Eren to roll on top, grab his wrists and pin him firmly to the bed. 

There's a pause, and Eren takes a moment to just watch, considering Jean's position, his cooperation. 

"Well?" Jean asks, cocking his head to the side expectantly.

"Jean, are you sure you want – Armin told me what could happen."

"Mm. Take your best shot."

Eren sputters for a moment, but there's a real challenge there, in the lift of Jean's chin, and that's enough to spur Eren forward with a little growl of excitement. 

Eren claims his mouth in a slow, opened mouthed kiss, shuffling on the bed until he's got Jean where he wants him, legs spread on either side of his hips. Jean's hole is hot and tingling from Eren's relentless attention, fresh wetness preparing it for Eren to slide in.

He does, and Jean whimpers at how easy the push is for his fingers, how little resistance there is as he presses and stretches. It doesn't take much, at all, to get him opened and ready enough for Eren's thick cock, and Eren is already well acquainted with the area, rubbing it fondly with his thumb, spreading the slick further. 

"Ready?"

"Fuck," Jean bites out, nodding. Eren huffs, eager, motions clumsy as he shifts forward, lining himself up – 

Oh. It's pushing in, and it's bigger than his fingers, bigger than his tongue. 

"Eren," Jean gasps, some strange instinct in him nearly curling around Eren completely, arms around his shoulders as Eren's _alpha cock_ starts pressing in, _yes, yes, **fuck** yes_. " _Eren_ ," Jean says again clinging harder, voice serious, needing Eren to know exactly what's happening inside him, how thick he is, how crazy it's driving Jean _already_.

Eren seems to get the message, hands running up and down Jean's body, worshiping, breathing out soothing nonsense, "so good, smell so good, Jean, it's perfect, feel so – so perfect…" 

He's moving, but in a way Jean's never felt before, a circular sort of motion, like he's churning butter, stretching Jean wider using just his dick, regular and steady motions against _that spot_ inside him. Jean cries out at this stimulation, toes curling, unsure – he could get off like this, but he wants – he wants that thrusting, he wants to be fucked into the bed, he wants Eren to use his full strength to do it. 

"C-come on," he says, doing his best to bounce on Eren's dick, encouraging this, but it's not enough – 

"Okay, okay," Eren pants, nodding, sliding out. 

He _jams_ back in, using real force, his full, demanding weight, and Jean cries out sharply. 

_Yes_ , yes. This is how they're meant to fit together, and Eren does it again, and again, this is how to best hit that knot of nerves, a repeated, delicious rhythm, Eren's hips pounding it against him, as Jean's held helplessly open and spread for it. Jean moans deliriously, swamped by the pleasure of Eren's persistent, demanding movements of his hips, slamming in over and over. 

Eren's energy seems limitless, like he could keep the intense pace for hours, but eventually, he starts slowing. It's not because he's grown tired, though. 

"Oh. Jean, it's – it's coming," Eren warns, voice deep. "L-Last chance, Jean."

Jean tightens his legs around Eren's waist, staring up at Eren, daring him to try to pull out. Every part of him in agreement: wanting the pleasure of today and willing to risk the consequence of tomorrow. 

Eren starts to knot, his thrusts slower, but growing _harder_ , going deeper, and Eren's got a firm hold of Jean's hips, yanking his body down to meet him, making their connection as complete as possible. 

This is the first time he's felt a knot grow inside him, and he freezes, mouth slack, quivering – it's _perfect_ , it's fat and thick and pressing right – there – "Eren," Jean pants again, desperate. "Eren, oh my god." 

"Like it?"

Jean just cries out, feels like he ought to be moving but instinct is clear: pinned and stuck, nice and full on Eren's dick is exactly where he's meant to be, laying still, filled up with Eren's knot and his seed. 

"Making me crazy, Jean," Eren breathes. He's running his hands up and down Jean's stomach, they feel huge and hot and Jean can only whine. "Think we're gonna have alphas? Big, strong alphas?" his voice is starting to shake now. "Or pretty omegas like you?"

Jean is moaning, imagining how full he would feel, with both Eren and Marco's babies inside him, his body swelling to accommodate them as they grow bigger and healthier. 

"Eren," Jean says, grabbing his wrist with a shaky hand, encouraging it down, lower, to his dick.

"Are you gonna come? Jeanbo?"

"Fuh – fuck – don't – "

"I wanna see you come," Eren says, nuzzling Jean's neck, cajoling. "Come on, let me smell it, how good you feel…"

His body is worn out, Eren has been so thorough, merciless, and it almost hurts when comes. "Oh – oh fuck," his cries are pained, his hips jerking brokenly, nothing more than twitches as he's fully stuck on Eren's knot. Each aborted thrust of his hips sends pleasure through his body in sharp, tingly waves, and his cock twitches in time, spraying up against his stomach in his release. 

~

He blacked out.

It's properly night when he wakes up, the small room lit by three dim torches. 

"Eren?" Jean asks, voice utterly wrecked. Something is shifting inside him, something is pulling out, and the Eren's scent is heavy in the air; the obvious culprit. 

"You can – you can keep sleeping, I just want to see – " Eren is saying. His knot has gone down, and the mattress shifts as Eren repositions himself, repositions Jean, lifting Jean's hips.

"Oh," Jean says when he realizes what he's about to do. It's unreal, how could he want – it again – already – _again_? But Eren is eager as he was at the beginning, his movements firm and greedy as he spreads Jean's cheeks. 

" _Oh,_ " Eren groans like he hurts, staring at the wrecked mess he made of Jean. "Oh look – at – look at what I did, jesus, Jean."

Jean shakes, trembles, gripping the sheet beneath him, as Eren dives back in, like a starving man, like it's too tempting to resist, like he hasn't had it before, mere hours earlier. 

He's crying, real actual tears streaking down his face by the time Eren finishes with a pleased little bite. He sniffles, rubbing his face against the sheets below, overstimulated and more exhausted than he's ever been in his life.

"Oh, baby," Eren says softly, crawling back up the mattress. Jean feels like a broken toy, limbs clumsy and useless as Eren gathers up his pieces, holding him close. He's going back to sleep, he hardly even woke to begin with, when a sudden, terrifying thought – 

"Don't – don't leave," Jean gasps with a sudden burst of adrenaline.

"I won't. Not going anywhere," Eren promises, and Jean nods. He believes it.


	4. Reiner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I expected that I'd have to give a warning for non-con at the top of this but this is actually... one of the most consensual chapters?!! i was not expecting this. Also the updated tags are VERY RELEVANT to this chapter: nesting and **size difference!!!**
> 
> In the other parts, I tried to keep mentions of Marco and Eren out of each other's sex scenes as much as possible, but for this one Jean makes a lot of comparisons to them as he has sex with Reiner, just a warning if any of you are hardcore Reiner/Jean shippers! The first bits cover a lot of eren and marco fucking jean, but then it's just Reiner/Jean all the way down (ctrl+f honey). Of course a Bert appearance, as well. :)

The following weeks are some of the strangest of Jean's life. 

An easy rhythm develops, Marco and Eren spending time with Jean in turns. How they decided on this schedule, or if there even is an actual, formal agreement, Jean doesn't know and doesn't bother to ask. Their company never overlaps, and while doesn't _always_ result in fucking, it usually does, and Jean spends most of his time awake in a pleasure-filled, near delirious fog. 

The two alphas are about as opposite as possible when it comes to fucking and Jean finds himself jerked between the two extremes, barely able to get his bearings before being thrown in the other direction. Eren seems to be driven completely on instinct, impulsive and eager and relentless, which leads to some nasty misfires – usually getting too into it, not listening when Jean tells him to stop, forcing Jean to kick him off the bed. Marco is thorough and deliberate, only growing more precise as they spend more time together, carefully hunting out Jean's weaknesses, studiously taking note, then manipulating them mercilessly. 

Both of them leave him spent and wet-eyed, pleasured so thoroughly that he's left a useless puddle of limbs, only capable of staring in a breathless daze at the ceiling. 

He's heard stories about this, about how responsive and _slutty_ omegas are supposed to be, how quickly and completely they spread themselves open in an alpha's bed. He grows suspicious of his own sensitivity, and sometimes decides to put up a bit of a fight to prove a point – but he quickly grows bored of this. 

In the moment it's just hard to care, and even Jean's paranoid mind has a hard time construing Marco and Eren's attitude as belittling or mocking. It never takes long for Jean to start moaning, loud and shameless as Eren manhandles his ass into the air or Marco bites at his neck, unapologetically possessive. 

At times, though, his head does clear from this madness, long enough to actually think about what's happening. Long enough for him to grow near ill with dread. 

It's usually late at night, when Marco or Eren – occasionally Mina or Armin – sleep at his side, and there's nothing to distract him from the awful looming future ahead. He's unable to picture anything that doesn't make his skin crawl, and will sometimes grow distressed enough for his pheromones to disrupt his partner's sleep.

Eren barely ever wakes at all, usually just shifting in bed to flop on top of Jean, as though physically shielding him from an incoming threat. 

"'S okay," Marco will promise in a slur, eyes still closed as he drags Jean closer against him. "It'll be okay." 

They're both liars.

Outside of fucking, sleeping, and worrying, his only real daily activity is eating. 

Consumed by a sudden, ferocious appetite rivaling even the one he had in training, when he was at the peak of his growth spurts and working his body raw daily, he feels as though he is constantly demanding food, until Marco and Eren simply start bringing whole trays of it at each visit. Armin believes this is in preparation for his pregnancy, saying Jean is already underweight, especially for an omega. 

Armin actually has a lot of thoughts to share. 

"The over sleeping thing will probably fade after your heat is over, I think," Jean literally wakes up to find Armin telling him one day, perched on the bed beside him with a large book spread over his lap. "It's designed to increase the bond between you and the pack – I don't know if you realize this, but you put out an especially needy scent when you sleep – "

"Can't say that I did," Jean says through his teeth, rolling over and bringing his pillow up over his head. 

"Well, you do, at least after having sex with an alpha," Armin says, flipping through the pages of his book. "Look – they talk about the same thing here, how the scent of the sleeping omega in fertile heat keeps the alpha watching over her, see? So the alpha bonds with her. This will help with the birth –"

When Armin lifts the book closer for Jean to see, Jean knocks it out of his hand without lifting his head. 

If it were hypothetical omega they were discussing, Jean would probably find this at least interesting, but living through these instincts is embarrassing enough, let alone seeing them detailed out in some book, with humiliating theories about how and why written out in great detail, Armin's own helpful footnotes on top of that. Otherwise, to his surprise, he actually enjoys Armin's company, finding him shrewd and sometimes even smart mouthed – but this something he's still too proud to admit to Marco.

"Franklin."

"No."

"Violet."

"No."

Eren purses his lips. "Carla."

"No."

"You've said no to every single name!"

"You haven't said a name that doesn't suck."

"Carla was my mom's name."

"Well. Her named sucked," Jean says, unapologetic. They're playing cards, a child's game of chance, one with simple, easy rules, which they defaulted to when more complicated games lead to fighting. Jean slaps down his cards – it's a losing hand, and the sight of it makes Eren grin, obviously placating him for the insult. 

" _Jeanette_ ," Eren suggests, obviously proud of himself for thinking of it as he reshuffles the deck.

"What? No."

"Gretch – " Eren stops, mouth still open. 

It's the alarm – a faint sound from all the way in the infirmary, but one they're very familiar with, and impossible to ignore. 

Jean's been given strict instructions to stay in the room unless specifically retrieved by Levi, but he's also been trained since day one to respond to that alarm, to drop everything and report in immediately. It feels wrong down to his bones to simply sit there as Eren jumps to his feet, yanks on his boots and runs out the door in less than a minute, without another word. 

Jean blinks at the door, then looks down at their card game. After a long silence, he gathers them all together and reshuffles the deck for a game of solitaire. 

The alarm shuts off shortly after that, and Jean tries to imagine the scene in the courtyard, the rows and rows of soldiers. The empty spot he should be standing, between Sasha and Thomas. He imagines Levi standing at the front – or maybe Erwin? But that's where his imagination stops, because all he can come up with are grim, worse-case scenarios. His flimsy, optimistic guesses of it being a drill, or maybe an inspection, a visiting politician, dim after an hour or so passes with none of his regular visitors knocking on his door.

Something serious, then. 

It's not long before he can't focus on the card game at all. Irritated and anxious, he paces the room. He never thought he'd be the type of soldier who grows restless at the chance to fight – but that's not it, either, it's not like he's Eren. He'd rather it not happen at all, but he is too much of a realist to ignore what he discovered in Trost: that he is useful in bad situations, that he can help, that he _should_ help, and, worst of all, that his friends _need_ his help. 

Around sunset, when he's given up on hearing from anyone at all for the rest of the day, his stomach complaining miserably, there's finally a knock on the door. He sits up hopefully, but it's only the nurse, holding a tray of dinner, and oil for the torches in the room.

Jean feels pathetic, and weak, and like every story he's ever heard about omegas when he takes the tray and asks if they know where Marco is, or where Eren went, or when they'll be back, unable to hide the need in his voice – he's not asking for them, and it's obvious. He's asking for himself.

"I'm not sure about those two," the nurse says. "But just about all the soldiers left about an hour ago. I heard they were heading outside the walls." 

"An expedition," Jean says, disbelieving. "An _emergency_ expedition?" 

Expeditions take nearly half a year to plan, the very concept is absurd, but it seems to be the case. The only people left at headquarters are a skeleton crew; the nurse themselves is older than his grandmother and not a viable partner, old enough that the pheromones they release are so faint only their mate would be able to smell them at all. 

Jean's not entirely sure what he's going to do. 

According to Armin, there are at least five days left of his heat, and that's assuming he's _lucky_ enough to be impregnated. Whereas an expedition can last – weeks. 

He's only been alone once, just an hour or so on that first day, but that panic – it was so intense and so consuming. Can he stand four days of that? 

The immediate answer is _yes_. He tells himself this and refuses to consider any other option. He survived training, didn't he? He survived a full-scale titan attack, the kind that took out all of Maria – he can survive a few days alone, and it'll probably be easier than whatever everyone else is dealing with outside the walls, too. 

He deals out another round of cards. 

The silence is odd after more than a week of constant company, but Jean doesn't think about that, or about anything else. 

~

He wakes in full-blown heat, a wave so powerful it takes a concentrated effort to even sit up in bed. 

Time passes strangely in this daze, but it's peaceful enough, and Jean is not distressed. The window is open, and the air is pleasantly cool and fresh. He's familiar with this room, not _his_ room, but safe, and even though there are no alphas with him, it still _smells_ like alphas, the lingering scents of two very friendly alphas. All this pleases Jean's hind mind and he's able to settle in comfortably.

The nurse comes in again with breakfast, and says something, but Jean doesn't hear it, quickly indifferent to their presence once he can't pick up their scent. They're not what he's interested in. 

After a long, slow morning, Jean realizes he's emitting strong, wanting, _needing_ pheromones; _here I am, find me – I'm ready, I'm ready –_ and instincts say to be patient, to be calm, that someone will be there soon. 

He spends quite a while in this passive, relaxed state, and nothing happens in the room, so the first few times he opens his eyes, he's not entirely sure... what happened... but eventually it's clear he's losing time, just minutes but then hours, slipping into some needy, catatonic state, as his pack takes longer and longer to respond... all morning... he opens his eyes and it's proper afternoon, and he's still alone.

 _Where are you?_ is the pitiful, omega scent he can't help making, stronger and stronger, even though he knows it's useless. _Please come back, I'm not finished, please..._

The sun sets, and Jean doesn't bother to light the torches in his room, just lies down and lets the cushion around his thoughts carry him off to proper, non-thinking sleep.

~

He dreams of being stranded on a huge, wild body of water. 

He's nauseated, and terrified, rocking from side to side on his tiny raft, until he realizes that if he curls up, right in the center, it's actually a soothing sensation. The material of the raft is malleable, and Jean molds it to his liking, creating high, firm barriers all along the edge. It provides some protection from the waves, but the most important thing is that it's _his_. It's a solid line, a definition of his space and what belongs in it. 

He wakes feeling inspired and ambitious. 

Promptly recreating it as much as possible, Jean uses all the blankets and pillows in the room, and requests more when the nurse brings him breakfast. This occupies his attention for hours, arranging and rearranging until it is perfect. Humming with pleasure he already knows is heat-induced stupidity (but enjoying it all the same), he eats until he is full, settles into the nest, nuzzles one of his extra pillows, and sleeps. 

He's long stopped being able to keep track the days or hours – he sleeps, and he wakes, sometimes it's dark and sometimes it's light. His nest does help, but the need to be around his alphas, his pack, is still growing, slowly and miserably. His scent is becoming needier, _please, I need you, please, I'm waiting, please_ , but Marco and Eren are obviously not smelling it, because they do not appear. 

He imagines the panic like the wild water – the nest helps him ride it out, but he can already tell, this isn't a dream. There's no magic raft to keep him safe, he's going to start sinking. 

~

When he's aware of the world next, he hears miserable, broken, pained noises, and realizes it's himself. 

A crushing, inescapable sense of loss and pain has left him curled around his middle uselessly, crying into the mattress. No one's come. Maybe his scent has soured, maybe they're hurt, maybe they've gotten lost, but whatever the reason, he's alone. The lingering scent of his pack is no longer a comfort, but a taunt. The panic driving his mind is too stupid to understand the actual reasons behind it all, and it's growing louder and louder until it's the only thing he can hear – 

He smells honey. 

Jean lifts his head, blinking his eyes clear as he tries to focus on it. Something… sweet. Vanilla, and smokey, like tobacco – oh.

No.

He knows that smell, and he's reacting to it before he even knows why, scrambling backward into a corner of his nest, trying to make himself as small as possible. 

_Reiner._

Reiner is part of the defense team in headquarters, and Jean knew that, but somehow it hadn't fully occurred to him what that meant, that he was walking around in the halls below. 

Jean's pained cries grow immediately silent, he doesn't even dare to breathe for as long as it takes for Reiner's smell to fade.

~

Jean couldn't tell you what day of the week it is, but he knows how many times Reiner's approached the infirmary, and exactly how long it's been since his last visit. 

It's his own needy sounds and smells luring Reiner close to begin with, and he knows it, and he knows Reiner probably can't help it any more than Jean can help making them, but he still feels resentful. He'd be drifting in and out of numb, relatively peaceful catatonics if it wasn't for Reiner and his _scent_. 

Each time he gets close enough to smell, Jean's pleading cries for his pack quiet, but he's obviously not fooling the alpha, or even himself, really. 

That strange, enticing mix of sweet and smokey have become the purpose of Jean's every waking moment, both impatient for and dreading when Reiner will finally get closer, maybe even to the door – his breath catches, imagining how strong Reiner's scent would be, then. It's comforting – then terrifying, his basest instincts unable to reach an agreement. 

If Jean's higher thought had a vote, he'd already be out the door and humping Reiner in the hall. He's exhausted, his pride tapped out a long, long time ago. If Reiner can make this experience even somewhat more bearable, fine. But he's ultimately ruled by instinct that says Reiner is _A Danger_ , and he can't reason himself out of it, even if he smells so _good_ , so _strong_ , it makes his mouth water. 

When Reiner leaves again, Jean finds himself wailing in protest, cramming his face into his pillow to muffle the noise – it's a sound that's meant to be heard, to bring the alpha back.

~

_\- ease, please, please, please, please -_

Jean lifts his head. 

Beyond the pillow/blanket wall of his nest is the door, and he sees a shadow there, in the crack above the floor. 

The scent is strong enough that he could almost convince himself that Reiner's in the room with him already, it's _not leaving_ , and everything already in conflict inside Jean spikes – _danger, he hurt you, he'll hurt you_ – _please, what are you waiting for??_ – _barely got away_ – _pack, alpha_ – 

"Jean."

~

Back in training, Reiner was one of the first cadets who got Jean's name right – first day. 

Jean had been making a bit of a spectacle of himself, swaggering through the cabin. He had made a point of seeking Reiner out, on account of his size, and introduced himself as though Reiner should give a shit.

Obviously used to younger children and their theatrics, Reiner had just nodded, once. _"Jean,"_ he'd repeated back, a bit clipped, but the pronunciation perfect. Acknowledging him and shutting down his showboating with one word. 

Reiner was never someone Jean could fuck with. 

Reiner didn't humor Jean's ridiculousness like Marco and he didn't take the bait like Eren. But he didn't ignore Jean, either, which certainly would've been easier. He patiently endured all the younger, more laughable cadets when he had to – and as Jean matured, held no grudges, allowing an actual friendship to grow. Steady, dependable Reiner.

He knows Reiner, and hearing his voice reminds him of that. That same calm, clipped voice, one that isn't going to suffer any dramatics or hysteria, and it refocuses Jean.

Forcing himself to climb out of the safety of his nest takes everything in Jean. Once he reaches the door he nearly freezes up again, the sudden memory of Reiner's mouth opening, diving down toward his throat – 

Jean squeezes his eyes shut and twists the knob before he can think twice, pushing the door open.

Reiner grabs it, and Jean jumps, fixated on his fingers when they appear around the edge, taking an instinctive step back toward his nest. _Mistake!! This was a mistake, run, now, escape!_ The wailing, terrified cry inside him is strong enough that if there was actually anywhere to go, Jean probably _would_ , but he's stuck, and can only wait for whatever Reiner decides to do next, and hope it doesn't leave him bleeding.

Jean's not sure what he looks like, but Reiner actually sighs when he catches sight of him.

"Good god, Jean," he says, sounding almost put out at the way Jean's wrecked himself. 

Jean's too far gone to respond. The scent didn't get any stronger, really, but there's something about being able to see Reiner that makes it _feel_ like it did, and Jean shakes, overwhelmed, as he breathes it in.

Reiner steps into the room, and his hands are huge, and big enough to cradle the back of his head when he cups Jean's face. 

Jean's sound of distress barely sounds human, choked and wild – _fight, fight him off, get away!_ , but he _can't_ , he fought this alpha before, and he lost – Jean stiffens so tightly he starts quivering, acutely aware of the door shutting behind Reiner. _Trapped – trapped –_ the panicked warning chants inside his head, louder than ever, and he feels almost lightheaded with all these extremes crashing through him. _Trapped!_

"Jean, _calm down_ ," Reiner says again, clearly affected by Jean's panic, but Jean can only shake his head, breathing going so wild he's starting to hiccup – _trapped!_

The biggest person who has ever hugged Jean was his father. Marco, in more recent memory, who is pleasantly sized, but does not curtain Jean completely, does not become all he can see and smell and hear. 

Reiner's arms wrap him close, yanking Jean flush against his body – Jean chokes on an unvoiced scream, just like before, and – 

Nothing happens. 

Jean gives a little sob of fear, but – 

He's... okay? The force of Reiner's embrace has Jean up onto the tips of his feet, arms trapped against his own chest – _trapped!_ – trapped, yes, he can't escape it, but it doesn't – hurt. Reiner isn't angry, and he isn't snarling or biting. He's hands are not fists, his teeth are not bared. 

Jean relaxes slightly, enough to actually breathe properly, sucking in air. 

Reiner. 

He's Reiner. Jean's friend. It's okay, everything – is okay, Reiner's here. His pack is here.

Fuck. 

Reiner's thumbs stroke his cheeks, just under his eyes in a way that seems odd until he realizes the reason he's shaking so oddly is because he's crying – already far, far beyond his limit, he's unable to cope with the powerful, overwhelming surge of relief on top of everything else.

Reiner starts toward the bed – but he must see, smell, the nest Jean's started for himself, because he hesitates. 

It feels like the world itself is tilting when Reiner leans back against the wall instead, and settles to the ground. Jean doesn't care either way. He's in Reiner's lap, held against his chest. _Safe, safe, safe,_ everything in him thrums, now that it's cottoned on to the fact that Reiner's not going to attack. 

Reiner's arm is around his waist, the other arm over his shoulders, encouraging Jean's head toward his throat, and he goes along with this, happily, nuzzling Reiner's neck and relishing the scent there. He squirms a bit, trying to find the best, most comfortable way to sit. _Stay, please stay, I need you, pack, safe, alpha, yes_ , he's humming, eyes closed and practically purring. 

It feels like he could sit like this forever, it's all he needs, to be close and touch and breathe in Reiner's amazing scent, and he's not entirely surprised by his own exhaustion creeping up, now that he's finally safe. He doesn't think this is entirely the same, weird omega-sleep that's been haunting him, mostly just the exhaustion of the miserable loneliness catching up with him. He doesn't try to stay awake, dropping off against Reiner's shoulder. 

~

He wakes up wanting sex. 

He doesn't remember his dreams, which could've contributed to this, but it's probably just the ridiculously firm muscles he's laying against, and the very noticeable cock pressing against his ass. Not erect, it's just – _there_.

Reiner is still fully dressed, and the straps of his uniform have dug into Jean's skin uncomfortably. Jean sits up, shifting to relieve this, looking down to examine the pattern pressed into the skin of his inner thigh.

"Feel better?" Reiner asks. 

Jean glances up and sees Reiner, head tipped back against the wall, eyes still shut. 

"Yeah." Jean barely recognizes his own voice, raw from disuse and the extreme emotions. God, his face feels raw from crying. It's as though he's slowly waking up from a terrible nightmare. 

Reiner nods slightly, still not looking down. "Sorry about all this."

Jean raises an eyebrow, considering that. 

_If_ he was going to assign blame to anyone else, it would go to Reiner. He kicked off the entire thing, after all, and it's tempting, too, because like Armin and Eren, Reiner was someone Jean regularly competed with in training. Someone he was annoyed by when they outperformed him. Holding this over Reiner's head could be satisfying but... Jean wants sex. He's grown used to it, honestly, and it sounds way more appealing to him than apologies. 

So instead he just shrugs. "Yeah."

His eyes drop from Reiner's blunt, rugged features, to his thick throat, thick shoulders, thick chest – Jean swallows, waiting. It never takes Eren or Marco long to start getting worked up, then to work up Jean up in return, or vice versa, and considering the shape of Reiner's stupidly thick dick, and the extreme spread of his thighs to accommodate Reiner's bulk, he can't imagine this will be any different.

It doesn't happen, though, at least not fast enough. Jean encourages it along, leaning closer, pressing his weight down suggestively, a motion he learned the last time Marco visited, when Jean had fucked himself to completion in quick, repeated bounces. 

Reiner – 

Chuckles. 

Jean glances up in shock, and sees Reiner finally opening one eye, peering down at him, clearly amused. "That the heat, or just you?"

"I – " Jean stutters out, and can't bring himself finish, making an attempt to stand.

"Hey, it's alright," Reiner laughs, tugging him back down. 

But, obviously, it's _not._ Reiner is more amused by his interest than anything else, and Jean has gotten caught up in the insanity of his heat. This isn't a normal thing to expect from your friends, of course it's laughable! He had history with Marco, and, though he wouldn't admit it out loud, some history with Eren. Reiner is more like – a big brother. There's appeal in the idea, but almost in a taboo, breaking the rules way, more fantasy than reality. 

"Seriously. I'm game if you are," Reiner says, shrugging. "Not like a chance like this falls in your lap every day."

"Chance like this?" 

"Ah," Reiner's smirk drops, and he rubs the back of his own neck awkwardly. Jean realizes he missed a joke. "Just. Yeah. Omegas died out in my home village a long, long time ago. Never thought I'd even see one in person as a kid."

Jean expression goes flat. "Right."

"Plus," Reiner says, obviously regretting the comment. "Heat or not, you're better company than the idiots in the crew down there."

"Bert left with everyone else?" Jean asks. He thought Bert was in the headquarters defense team, too, but has a hard time imagining Reiner preferring the company of _anyone_ over his mate. "Where'd they go, anyway? Why?"

Reiner rolls his eyes, and adjusts his weight, which reminds Jean of their general size difference – it's the earth beneath him shifting, forcing Jean up, then back down, as he settles again. "Some MP inquiry on Survey Corp, wanting to see our emergency drills and expedition functions."

"Trying to shut us down again?"

"That's my guess," Reiner says. 

Jean nods, relieved. It's – annoying, and a waste of time, the king asking how high they can jump, so they have to come out in full force and jump. But there's no immediate danger, other than unnecessary, stupid risks any of them – Eren – decide to take. Assuming he doesn't do anything especially suicidal, everyone should be returning to headquarters in one piece.

The moment of impulsive arousal seems to have officially passed, and it takes a bit of searching, but Jean finally finds his pants, which fell under the bed several days ago, and were promptly forgotten. He slips them on, then lands right back in Reiner's lap. 

The past few days still hang over him, a dark, looming shadow, one just waiting to grab at Jean and drag him back under. He needs this alpha as close as possible to keep it at bay, and can tell that this is satisfying for Reiner, as well, who was reluctant to allow Jean off his lap at all. He tugs Jean back down before he even finish fastening his pants, wrapping both arms around him and inhaling deeply at the top of Jean's head. _Safe, I feel safe, I trust you, I like you._ Reiner rumbles, deep in his chest, a gruff, pleased, alpha noise at the scent. Jean's heard it from Marco, but there's something about it from Reiner that makes him blush. 

He'd make a joke of it, tease Reiner a bit, except he knows Reiner has no problem giving as good as he gets and would immediately turn it back around on him. Instead, he frowns, and pokes idly at the rounded, almost entrancing muscles of Reiner's chest, surprised at how soft they feel, and how comfortable it is in general. 

It's as though Reiner was custom built for the specific purpose of combating all the worst parts of a heat. His scent is strong and heady, but not intimidating. It's a sweet, inviting, soothing thing, and his sheer size makes it impossible not to feel protected and safe. _Lucky Bert,_ Jean sighs to himself.

Reiner's never enjoyed card games, but there's really nothing else to do up there to pass the time, outside of fucking and talking. He spends the next hour catching Jean up on everything that's happened since he was quarantined in the infirmary, and all the absurd rumors that popped up in response to his dramatic heat.

Some of the cadets have started saying that Jean's some kind of brand new omega, or that Armin and Jean had an _omega fight_ over Eren – "What makes it an _omega fight_ and not just a fight?" "You're omegas, so... Sexier. More naked. Slicked up with oil." "Ah." – that Jean isn't even in the headquarters at all! Commander Erwin sent him off to Sina, where he's being put to use by the king. None of it is as absurd as the truth, in Jean's opinion, and Reiner laughs when Jean tells him so. 

He realizes he's missed Reiner's dry sense of humor, how he doesn't even attempt to sugarcoat anything. He actually _snickers_ when Jean tells him about the multiple pregnancies. 

"Your skinny ass is going to be pinned down by your own damn stomach two months in," he says. 

Jean elbows him, and Reiner laughs harder. "Asshole." 

"Nah, it'll be fine," Reiner says. "Could've picked a lot worse than Eren and Marco. And the commander's alright with it. It'll work out."

"Sure," Jean says, rolling his eyes like this is oversimplifying it, and it _is_ , but for the first time, the idea isn't something that makes him want to puke. 

They talk easily into the evening, which is when Jean starts to grow anxious again. 

He realizes Reiner evaded his question about Bert – an annoying habit of the alpha's – and as nice as this has been, Reiner and Bert are particularly close, even for a mated pair. He's not sure how interested Reiner will be in spending the entire night with him on the hard floor – _or... in Jean's nest?_ The idea makes him blush. But he decides he'll allow it. But only if Reiner is interested! If Bert is still here, Reiner will probably want to spend the night with his mate, and Jean won't – _beg_ or anything. 

"If you want to leave," Jean says, slowly, like he's testing if the ground beneath him will hold up under the weight of the words. "You should light the torches when you go. If you want. You could. Stay. If you wanted."

"Yeah? Only if _I_ want?" Reiner clearly sees right through him, and is amused. "Such a gracious guy, Jean."

God, he's such an asshole. Jean scowls. "Just do whatever you want."

"That's what I'm doing," Reiner says, voice a bit fonder, and rubs one of his stupidly huge thumbs across the back of Jean's neck. For some reason this is even _more_ infuriating. _Asshole_.

Still, Jean is more confident now about allowing Reiner into his nest, and the invitation actually seems to stun Reiner to seriousness. His expression grows nearly _grim_ with how serious he takes it as he undoes the straps of his gear, folds his jacket and shirt, then gingerly crawls over the wall of pillows. 

"Nice," Reiner says, laying out in the space, and Jean has a ridiculous urge to readjust. Shift a pillow there – drag up the blankets and repile them closer to the wall – but he forces those instincts to quiet and settles down, slowly, carefully, alongside Reiner, like he had with Marco and Eren, trying to get used to his size. There's less of the bed, but more alpha for him to lay on... 

"I know it wasn't the best way to say it, before," Reiner says, once they've both found the most comfortable way to lay beside each other, and it does feel very intimate, and Jean had also been thinking about Reiner's offer. "But I meant it. If you want."

"If _I_ want," Jean repeats, and punches Reiner's side, not as hard as he can, but not especially holding back. Reiner grunts, and it's satisfying. "So fucking gracious, Reiner."

Time and the general passage of days has been such an abstract concept to Jean for so long, he's actually surprised when Reiner yawns. But it is late, they lit the torches a while ago, and it's a safe assumption that Reiner hasn't has as many naps as he's had today. The pauses in their conversation grow longer, and quieter, until Reiner stops talking completely, sighing heavily as he drifts to sleep.

Jean watches him a few moments longer, his relaxed features, slack mouth, the deep, slow breathing.

"Reiner?" he asks, quietly. 

Nothing.

Jean glances back down at his nest. 

Well. It's not like he has anything _better_ to do than rearranging a few of the pillows…

~

There's a soft, tentative knock on the door in the early, early morning, when the sky is still a dark, heavy blue. 

It's such a quiet noise that Jean goes still against Reiner, waiting, trying to figure out if he just imagined it. 

He's only been able to do it a few weeks, but it's already instinct to check the air… It's hard with Reiner's heavy scent clouding the room, but yes, there is a person, very close, one that smells like... tea. Sweet tea? But there's something minty there, vaguely herbal, like the remedies Mina's uncle makes, the ones that smell more like food than medicine. It's only vaguely familiar, but somehow Jean isn't entirely surprised when he hears Bert's voice, a whisper just slightly louder than his knock. 

"Sorry." 

Bert is opening the door, just enough for his head to poke through, scanning in the room in the dark light. He jerks in surprise when he sees Jean, watching. "Oh. Hello," he says, quietly. 

Reiner has reacted to the smell of his mate, sighing and grumbling a bit, tilting his head, angling for a better smell of the door, but not properly waking up. Jean starts to jostle the alpha awake, but Bert puts up his hand. 

"Wait – can we talk?"

Even at the worst moments of Jean's heat, the thought to leave the room simply had not occurred to him. 

He realizes this once he hesitates at the threshold of the door to the hallway, where Bert waits. The hall is dark and empty – unfamiliar. Jean's only seen this part of the infirmary once, when Levi was leading him up here, weeks ago. He doesn't know this space. _So??_ Jean snarls at the fear in his mind, and it feels like he just doesn't have the patience for it anymore. He grits his teeth and forces himself out into the hall, one foot, and then the other, annoyed at everything that even this is a difficult thing. 

"Is Reiner helping you to the end of your heat?" Bert asks, after Jean closes the door behind him.

"Not – sex. Just – " Jean waves an arm back toward the room, where whatever Reiner is doing for him is still happening. "What is it?"

"Well," Bert says, and seems to be struggling with where to start. "There aren't any omegas in our home village."

"Yeah, I heard," Jean says, unamused, remembering Reiner's joke. 

"Reiner didn't know what could happen, earlier – before – when this started – " 

"Neither did I." 

"Ah, right," Bert says, wilting a little at the dismissive tone. He was probably going to apologize, but Jean doesn't need to hear it, and doesn't want to rehash this again. 

Bert is tall but wiry, and there's something about the way he holds himself that makes it look like a good, healthy gust of wind could knock him right over. He is strong, though, easily strong enough to incapacitate Jean, and Jean's seen this, lost to him in hand to hand combat multiple times. For some reason it's never the imposing thing it should be. Jean routinely feels a bit like a bully around Bert, then annoyed with Bert for making him feel that way. It's happening again, Bert is shifting his entire body to defer to Jean, and Jean wants to give him a good, hard shove and tell him to get it together already. And _Jean's_ the omega, really? 

"Was that all?" Jean asks. 

"Well… uh," Bert says. Maybe there was more, but he's obviously lost the words for it. 

"Listen," Jean says. His tone is unnecessarily abrasive. _He's_ unnecessarily abrasive, and it's the embarrassment that's doing it. It's a hard thing to say, even in front of soft Bert. Armin and Mina had just _known_ , he hadn't had to ask, but he likes not being scared and he does not want Bert to take Reiner from his bed, not just yet. "All the other alphas are gone." 

Bert nods, waiting. Jean grimaces. 

"So," Jean forces out. "It's... easier for me with Reiner here. If you don't mind."

"Ah," Bert laughs, lightly. He's blushing. Jean raises an eyebrow. "That was actually – what I wanted to talk to you about."

"What?" 

"I don't think Reiner or I will live very long, frankly," Bert says, and, for once, sounds absolutely sure of himself. "Definitely not to retirement."

"Okay... ?" Survey Corp is dangerous for everyone, obviously, but it's not something he was expecting to discuss when Bert called him out into the hallway in the middle of the night. 

"If – it's selfish," Bert says, back to the usual awkwardness. "And I'm sorry, but – if you could – if Marco and Eren haven't – You're an omega, so they'll make sure you stay safe long enough, at least until you give – birth – "

Oh. "I can't really control it," Jean says.

"I know," Bert says, and looks Jean up and down, as though trying to spot any clues that will tell him if Jean's already been knocked up. "But if – if you want to try. If you'd let him try. I'd be grateful. I, ah. Wouldn't mind."

"I mostly just want to sleep," Jean mutters, embarrassed again, because he knows – he wanted it before and it won't be long until he wants it again, regardless of what he wants now. 

"Well," Bert says, and gives a wry little smile. "I wouldn't mind that, either."

It feels methodical and somewhat surreal, the way Jean presents his neck for Bert, compared to the instinctive bites from Mina and Armin, which have healed to a few red dots and some bruising, one on each side. Bert looks between them almost clinically, as though trying to pick the right spot.

He smiles again, his usual quick, insecure little stab of a smile, before bending and bringing his mouth against Jean's right side.

Jean tries not to laugh at the faint, almost tickling brush of teeth. "Uh. I think it needs to be a little harder than – _Gah!!_ " Jean's back arches, and this is the most clearheaded he's been when a partner's bite has hit him; it's like a sharp, cruel little orgasm, hijacking his entire body. "Ah – fuh-fuck, that's – "

"Alright?" Bert asks, pulling back immediately. "Was that right?"

"Yeah – just... weird," Jean says, then stumbles forward, bracing himself against Bert. 

Bert has an early morning shift, scheduled to report in to the towers in less than an hour, so he doesn't linger when helps Jean back into the room, where he stumbles again, and climbs awkwardly back to the bed, blinking, dazed. 

Cadets are allowed to drink after their second year of training, and there were several taverns in the local villages that had generous discounts for military. Marco had held back that first night of freedom, while the rest of them had poured mead down their throats so fast they barely had time to swallow. That was Jean's first experience with the hazy, cloudy eyed reality of drinking, and it hits him, now, how close that tipsy feeling is to heats. 

It was Reiner that Jean ended up falling asleep against in the tavern, flopping against his shoulder and drooling, and there's a strange sense of deja vu when the fog rushes up to him now, as the door closes and Jean presses himself back against Reiner again. 

Even asleep, Reiner's interest is immediately piqued by the bite. He rolls toward it, hands clumsy and heavy as he grabs for Jean, only calming back down once Jean angles his neck for him to sniff, which Reiner nuzzles, chest rumbling deep contentment as he investigates it. 

~

Mikasa is, in Jean's opinion, the best looking person he's ever seen. The softness of her face, her solemn, haunting eyes, her thick, dark hair – there's strength in every part of her body, she _controls_ every part of her body, and it's clear with each deliberate, swaying step she takes. Marco, also, is handsome, his dark eyes intelligent and kind, and a similar sort of kindness is in Eren, who is gorgeous, as well. _These_ are the kinds of alphas Jean is attracted to, and he thinks of all this with stewing annoyance as he stares at Reiner. 

He wants to have sex with Reiner. 

This isn't the heat, and Jean knows it. It's a box that's opened by the circumstances, and will not be shut again. But Reiner is so – big, and obvious, and a jerk, why, _why_? Reiner is probably the most reliable person Jean's ever met – so there's that. If he had to go on a life or death mission with anyone, Reiner would easily be one of his top choices. He's dedicated and relentless and shrewd. He's tall and strong and everything an omega should want, and it is uniquely humiliating to realize that yes, this is exactly what Jean wants, and exactly why. 

He tells Reiner about the conversation with Bert as soon as he wakes up. He expects his heat to kick off the second he mentions – babies, and getting pregnant, but instead Reiner just looks _amused_ again. 

"You're sure?" Reiner says, smirking. 

"You think I'm going to change my mind?" 

"Well," Reiner says, and shrugs one shoulder. He doesn't finish the thought, and doesn't have to. He unfastens his pants, and his disbelief is immediately understandable. 

"… Oh," Jean says.

Reiner's cock is, simply, absurd. It's huge, it's thick, and it's obscene. Even limp and hanging soft it's imposing, laying out against his own thigh, heavy and full. Jean stares, and can't quite bring himself to look away, and can't really – settle on a reaction, unable to really name the thing squirming around in his lower stomach.

"Still up for it?"

"Uh." Jean eyes dart quickly upward, checking Reiner's amused expression, the lift of his eyebrow. His cock twitches once, and Jean's face heats, all the way up to his ears. 

"I mean, it takes a while to get Bert ready," Reiner says, reaches down and starts working it, almost idly. "And – ah. You're like... a third of his size. We can do whatever, but if you really want to try to make a baby... "

" _Bert_ wants," Jean corrects, annoyed again. Because everything that makes the rational side of him flinch away only makes the idea _more_ enticing to the part of him that's been wailing in misery the past week. _Good_ , is the solid, sure omega response at the sight of Reiner's cock, like an idiot.

"Right, yeah, all Bert's fault," Reiner says, voice going especially low, pleased. It's because he's growing stiffer in his hand. It's not something Jean can complain about, the smell of Reiner's arousal is tantalizing, something he was born to respond to, something he'd probably whine about if Reiner stopped, but it's still somewhat odd for Reiner to do, even given the subject matter. 

Until Jean sees that it's not just getting stiff. 

He had assumed, _logically_ , given its size, that that was all there was to Reiner's cock, but he was wrong. It's _swelling_ , thicker, and longer, _bigger_ as Reiner milks it. 

"What – " Jean's head is spinning as he watches. How – the fuck. Nearly entranced, Jean reaches out to touch it, and Reiner slows down, pulls his own hand away, allowing it. "Fucking hell, Reiner."

It's warm and solid against his palm. He bites his lip, feels his eyes going half lidded, and it's almost compulsive, the thought of how well it would fill him – it sends a shiver up his back. Fuck. He strokes up, gently, just once, and Reiner groans. 

"Let's try," Jean says. 

Reiner has a routine with Bert, and he does it here, with Jean. "Damn," he says, when he rests his hands on the narrowest part of Jean's waist. He squeezes briefly, eyes going dark and pleased, then seems to come back to himself. "I'm still on the edge of my rut," Reiner says. "So – you know. Say something if I get too rough."

"Saying something didn't work all that great last time."

"Punch me. Whatever," Reiner says, then gropes Jean through his pants, bold and sure, his hand big enough to nearly grip Jean's entire cock. Jean's mouth falls open at the surprising warmth, and ends up just getting in the way when he tries to yank off his pants. Reiner's fingers are nimble and efficient, undoing Jean's pants and pulling them out of the way, then immediately returning to Jean's dick, encouraging it up with skilled twists of his hand that leave Jean's toes curling.

With Marco and Eren – Jean can't even remember who kissed first. It had been easy and natural, and Jean had enjoyed it. Now, Jean stares at Reiner's mouth as Reiner's hands works his slowly stiffening dick, thumb stroking carefully at his balls beneath that, wondering when? If at all? Is that part of this? Feeling stupid and oddly shy, and already exposed to the alpha, Jean surges forward and presses their lips together, as if proving a point. 

Reiner stiffens in surprise, then nearly melts for it, moaning, hand cupping the side of Jean's face as he deepens the kiss. Jean's up on his knees in order to reach, both hands in Reiner's hair, moaning as he gets into it, and it encourages Reiner, the hand on his dick moving up to Jean's waist, pulling him close. He hoists Jean's weight up easily, with literally one arm, and Jean has to break the kiss at that, breath catching in arousal, his hands landing on Reiner's arm and digging his nails into the muscle there. Fuck. 

As if he can tell the impact he's having on Jean – and maybe he can, maybe he can smell it – Reiner's fingers slide down between Jean's cheeks, rubbing at the wetness there, moving deeper, testing how relaxed and open Jean is. 

"Wow," Reiner says, sounding impressed as he pulls his hand back, rubbing Jean's slick between his fingers. "It's really coming out."

Equal parts aroused and embarrassed, Jean flushes. "Betas don't… ?"

"Not this much," Reiner says. "Always gotta use a fucking bucket of oil with Bert. Make sure he's relaxed, too... but this might be easier than I thought." Jean chokes on his shock when Reiner _sticks his fingers in his mouth,_ licking them clean. "Tastes as good as it smells," Reiner says, clearly proud of himself, and Jean shoves Reiner's shoulder.

Eren had licked it, and – licked even worse, actually, but – it was different, somehow, this is different, and Jean doesn't know why it _arouses_ him like it does.

"Wanna see how wet you can get," Reiner says, and Jean actually feels nervous, because Reiner looks focused, now, almost hungry, pupils blown out.

He manhandles Jean without thought or effort, turning him around, then down, ass in the air. Jean's body is ready for sex, it knows this position, it's never been _handled_ like this, but it's something that hits hard in his gut, tingling where it strikes. 

He's actually hoping Reiner will do the _Eren thing_ , but he doesn't. He takes off his pants completely, and Jean grips the sheets. 

"Reiner..." he says nervously, eying his full length, which has gotten even bigger after the kissing. And the. Licking.

"Gonna try something," Reiner says, holding his cock and pressing it against Jean's ass. "This helps Bert."

 _Yes, now, yes, yes_ , Jean's scent is going wild at this sensation, the alpha's dick against his skin, against his ass, against _his hole_. "R-Reiner," Jean says again, because he's not going to be able to stop it if it's too much, he realizes. If Reiner pushes him to that point, Jean's going to keep going with it, even if it breaks him in half, and it _will_ , it's – it's too big – " _Reiner –_ "

Reiner thrusts, but he thrusts _down_ , between Jean's cheeks, between his thighs, toward Jean's own cock. 

"Wh – " Jean blinks at the odd feeling, breathing hard. Reiner does it again, shifting his hips back, then thrusting forward – " _Aah_ ," Jean moans. Reiner's fucking between his cheeks, between his thighs, and the motion is – _yesss_. It's – rubbing against something, it's just sudden flashes, so it takes a few times to figure out that it's coming from behind his balls, the sensitive area Marco had rubbed with his fingers. The fat head of Reiner's cock is jabbing up against it, then sliding further forward, and it feels _good_. Jean spreads his thighs further, lifting his ass up for more, loving the long, lewd rub of Reiner's thick, swollen cock against all of his sensitive bits. His slick is pooling, and the smell and sound is making it even more obscene, which only seems to please Reiner.

"Yeah. Get it all wet," Reiner is practically growling, sounding vicious in his lust. 

This motion, Reiner's dick sliding between his cheeks, has more than pleased the omega instincts in him, it feels as though he's being fucked. He's happy to continue like this, spread open and ready for Reiner to do whatever – whatever he wants.

Suddenly, Reiner drops forward, bent over Jean, leaning on his forearm. Anyone else would be crushing Jean, but Reiner's ridiculous fucking size is more than big enough to curtain him completely, held above him as comforting, solid, sudden weight, warm and protective. 

Reiner's hand, gigantic, _fuck_ , moves between their legs, gripping both of their dicks at once, stroking, and Jean can't hold in the wail, crying, gasping, losing his fucking mind as he humps down into the pressure. 

"Fuck," Jean sobs. "Fuck – fuck me."

Reiner pauses. "Say it again."

" _Fuck me_ ," Jean squeezes his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. He'll yell it if Reiner wants. "Do it. Fuck me, Braun."

Reiner pulls back, upright again, enough to get a better view of his work, his thick fingers rubbing around Jean's entrance. "I donno, omega. You're all relaxed and wet, but you're still so tight." Two fingers, inside Jean, scissor open slightly, gently testing, pushing Jean to his limits. "You really want me to wreck this pretty little hole? I'll make it all loose."

Jean is going to say this humiliating thing, he just needs to cry out once or twice, catch his breath. But in an unexpected show of mercy, Reiner doesn't make him do it. 

"Slow, right?" Reiner says, voice a deep, soothing, yet taunting rumble. "Nice and slow."

He seems to be talking to himself but Jean nods anyway, fingers squeezing at the sheets as the fat head of Reiner's wet dick presses against his slick entrance. This time it's not a tease, not a lewd taunt, he's actually pushing in, and Jean's body spreads for it, just as easy as that. 

He's done this – countless times now, but the sheer, impossible size of Reiner makes Jean's mouth drop open, his face heat. He's far more clearheaded than he was the first time he had sex with either Marco or Eren, but there's still that omega voice, that omega want, thrumming and quivering in anticipation, instinctively pleased by this alpha's size, by the way his cock forces its way into Jean's body, by the way his body allows it. 

"Slow," Reiner says again, his voice is gentler this time, and Jean realizes he's started panting, the noise edged with whimpers. "Easy. S'alright."

Jean nods along with the nonsense, oh _fuck._ He's. So _big._ " _Reiner_ ," he says.

"I know," Reiner says, large hands soothing down Jean's thigh. "S'alright, Jean." 

Jean pulls the sheet as much as he can, bunching it at his face, crying into it, unsure if it even hurts, it's just – it's just overwhelming, feeling his body stretched to this size, further than it's ever been. Halfway there, Reiner pauses, swallowing thickly and gripping Jean's hips, hard, as though trying to brace himself. " _Fuck_ ," he says. "How you doing down there?"

Jean inhales deeply, because he stopped breathing, and he'll need air to respond. "Nng – g-good. You?" 

Reiner sort of rumbles, both thumbs tracing along the circle of Jean's stretched entrance, the touch light and careful. Jean shivers, hyper aware of the room, of his hips canted upward in Reiner's hands, his legs opened wide, toes flexing on either side of Reiner's knees, his own cock hanging between his legs, swollen and wanting. But nothing compares to the straining muscle of his ass, the size of the dick that's rearranging his insides to accommodate it. He can't, he knows he can't already, he can't endure this, but the omega in him is nearly moaning in anticipation, even the uncomfortable bits are scratching at an itch that lives deep, deep in a sleeping part of his mind, a part that's slowly waking up. 

The cock inside shifts back, just a bit, then starts pushing in again... in... in... in. It reaches a point that Jean is sure – has to be the end, but isn't, Reiner's still – moving _in_. Shit. No, no, no – too much – he almost tenses up, almost panics, when Reiner suddenly bends down, cups the back of Jean's head, turns it to the side and kisses him. 

It takes a beat to accept this distraction, let himself relax, to fall into it, but he finally does, closing his eyes and letting the tension fade, licking desperately into Reiner's mouth, welcoming it when Reienr's tongue fights back. But that doesn't stop the feeling of being impossibly stuffed on both ends as Reiner finally bottoms out inside him. "Oh god," he says, breaking the kiss, tilting his head back. "Oh god, Reiner, what the fuck."

"Sorry," Reiner laughs breathlessly, as Jean's hole flutters around him. He gives a tender kiss to the back of Jean's neck, then leans back up, and can't seem to stop touching Jean's body, hands sliding up and down his waist and groaning. Jean is grateful for this petting, and the moment of stillness, feeling feel Reiner's true, full, length, deep inside. 

"You're going to kill me with your knot," Jean says, hopeless. 

"We don't have to," Reiner says, but Jean is shaking his head, because his stupid – omega want is going to insist on it, that's the whole _point_. The thought of not getting this alpha's seed, not feeling it deposit inside him – it's unthinkable. It's what he wanted from the beginning, what he didn't want to admit before, and he won't be satisfied unless he gets it. "Alright, whatever you want," Reiner says, soothing again. 

"Just – stay like that. Don't move," Jean says, face down, in the mattress. He braces himself, then lifts his hips, rolling them, slowly – carefully – back down to Reiner's base. " _Aah- ah!_ " This is it. This is as big as it gets. He feels like he's giving his own asshole a pep talk, and bites down on the sheet as he rolls hips again. _Alright?_ It doesn't.. hurt at least. He does the same careful, slow motion, landing again at the thickest point of Reiner's cock. _Alright?_ he chesk his body again. Yeah. _Yes._ This time it isn't bravado. 

Jean feels his eyes drifting shut, panting. He moves his hips again. Yeah, okay... this is – he forces his way back down a little harder, because – yes, god, he likes – how feels – god being stuffed, like this, so full – yes, _god._

He doesn't pick up speed, but he goes harder, fucking himself, searching for the best way to rub against that spot from before, that Reiner had slammed into from the outside.  
" _Oh_ ," Jean gasps when he finally gets it, throwing his head back, fuck that was - _perfect_ "The- there, Reiner, there – "

"Ah," Reiner says, voice obviously strained. "But you were putting on such a nice show."

Jean whirls his head to the side, glaring over his shoulder, but Reiner was only joking, and Jean immediately melts against the mattress once he starts moving like he asked. He sobs at each thrust, striking perfectly where he wants it, moving one hand to grab blindly for his own dick, stroking sloppily at himself. The fullness feels amazing now, feels like he was meant for it, and this won't take long at all, not at this pace, with this rhythm, with Reiner's fucking monster cock.

"Like this?" Reiner asks, rocking his hips in a slightly different motion, thrusts going upward, rocking Jean up, off his knees at the peak of each thrust. 

Jean screams. He likes it. 

"Thought you might," Reiner says. "God. You're _tight_."

"No – fu-fucking shit, fuck – " Jean wails out, unable to even jerk off, the force of Reiner's fucking needing both hands, braced against the wall ahead of himself. "T-touch me, pl – " fuck, his whole body is being rocked, jostled ruthlessly, pleasure traveling in relentless waves through him. "Please, Reiner," he gasps. 

Reiner's hand reaches down, stroking Jean in a perfect, firm grip. It's far better than his own handling and he buries his face in the mattress, sobbing out, until Reiner starts getting closer to his finish. Hips picking up the pace, he lifts Jean up by his middle, snarling as he bodily forces Jean down onto his cock. Jean stares down with blurry eyes at his own stomach, sure he should be able to see the budge. 

Jean starts jerking himself with both hands, tilting his head back onto Reiner's shoulder, and he realizes he's begging, though he doesn't know for what. "Please, please – Reiner – "

"Almost," Reiner says, as though he knows what Jean wants. Maybe he does. He covers Jean's hands with his own, starts _grinding_ into him, and Jean's vision whites out. He arches his body helplessly when he comes, clenching hard on the thickness in him, more thankful for it's ridiculous size than ever, riding it's size through his orgasm, and when it starts getting even bigger, _knotting_ , his jaw drops, gasping, head still cloudy from his orgasm, blindsided by this new wave of pleasure. 

"Reiner," Jean sobs, shaking his head. 

"Too much?" Reiner asks. "It feels like it might be too much, fuck, Jean. You really took all that?" he sounds astonished, the way a child might. 

"Yeah," Jean says, sounding broken even to his own ears. He puts his hand over his stomach, the mess of his own come, the muscles inside straining at Reiner's size, still wedged in there. He feels drunk. "F-filling me up now?"

"Yeah," Reiner says. He carefully shifts, first off his knees, onto his ass, then laying them both down. "I don't think you're in heat."

"What?" Jean asks. What a stupid thing to – huh. Jean blinks. Jean tries to think, tries to remember the last time the heat clouded his thoughts. Tried to remember a time it directed him toward Reiner at all. The closest would be after Bert's bite, but... was that just the result of the bite?

"I haven't – smelled it. This whole time. Not like before," Reiner says. He actually sounds pretty wrecked himself, pained, and Jean wonders if his smallness might be difficult, too tight to be pleasurable. 

"Do you want to pull out?" Jean asks, finding himself quite sad at the idea. 

"Fuck, no," Reiner says. "I want – " he grinds his hips up again, forcing the knot deep into Jean, and Jean starts nodding, quickly, yes. 

"Yeah – yeah, come on," Jean says, and finds himself rolled onto the mattress again, Reiner _grinding_ down into him. "If I'm not – ah – in heat then – "

"I donno," Reiner says, obviously knowing that Jean was thinking about the – the baby Reiner could be giving him. Of course that's only a relief, it was a long shot anyway, obviously, _obviously_ he's been with Marco and Eren for a solid week, and Reiner only once, so. There was no reason to get too attached to the idea. "My cock thinks you are though."

"Yeah," Jean says. His own body definitely thinks the same, milking eagerly on Reiner's knot, greedily, wanting the baby of the alpha that fucked him so brutally, fucked him so full and so well. 

"S'enough for now," Reiner says.

"Yeah."


End file.
